Unsteady
by VaguelyEmi
Summary: Terrified of the nightmares that plague him, Sam has been having trouble sleeping. He thinks maybe Dean is the answer but summoning the courage to actually ask for help might be more than he can do. Find out what happens when he doesn't have a choice but to seek out his brother.
1. Unsteady

Sam started awake, heart pounding. He took a deep breath and stared at the glowing digital face of the clock near his bed.

 _ _3:17am__.

He looked around the room as he tried to shake the cold fingers of terror. The shadows warped into ghostly shapes reminiscent of his time in Hell.

He stretched his long limbs, legs hanging off the bed's edge. He'd gotten used to the fact that most beds couldn't fit his long frame, so he didn't even notice anymore. He hugged his pillow and sighed. There's no way he was going back to sleep.

' _ _Guess it's time to get up__.' He knew it was just a dream but in that moment it felt too close to reality. He needed to distance himself from the truths it whispered.

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran an absent hand through his disheveled hair.

' _ _I can start cataloging that book on Mayan sacrificial magics__.' It was as good a place to start as any.

He padded down the hall to the library, barely noticing the cold floor as he lost himself in his plans for the day. Their sole aim, distract him from the demons clawing at the corners for his attention.

* * *

Sam refocused his attention on his surroundings when a steaming cup appeared in his periphery. Immediately the scent of a rich dark roast stole his attention and his stomach clenched in hunger.

"Dude. How long you been here?" Dean asked, looking at all the scattered books on the wooden table.

Sam shrugged. In truth he really didn't know what time it was. He'd forgotten to take his phone with him.

Dean gave him a brief considering look when he took another sip of his coffee before shrugging himself. The kid was weird.

"Hungry?"

Sam nodded absently. His book had already recaptured his attention.

"What you feel like?"

"Whatever you make is fine." he said distractedly.

"Really." His tone was heavy with disbelief in the way only Dean Winchester could pull of.

"You're not gonna ask for something douchey like a Kale salad? You feeling alright?"

Sam smiled to himself. Dean had a habit of making him seem more picky than he actually was. Most people would probably find this annoying but Sam loved it when they teased each other like that. He usually won anyway.

He pushed his book away and gave Dean his attention. He could already feel his features moving into what Dean liked to call his bitch face but he couldn't help it. It came from being the little brother for 34 years.

"Well, Dean," he said smugly. "Do you know how to make a kale salad?"

"Sam, it's a salad. What's to know?"

"Actually unlike the other leafy greens, kale needs spec-"

"You would know this," interrupted Dean.

"Fine." Sam said, getting annoyed. He settled into a more relaxed pose in his chair, his body fully turning to Dean. "Do we have kale?"

"Well. No but..." Dean trailed off.

"So whatever you make is fine," he answered with a self satisfied smug smile.

"So whatever you make is fine," Dean mocked over exaggeratedly but Sam could hear the smile in his voice so he refocused on his book knowing that breakfast would be delicious.

In the corner of his mind he registered the brief squeeze Dean gave his shoulder as he left.

* * *

Gasping, Sam fought his way to wakefulness as the remnants of his dream struggled to keep its hold on him. He could feel the panic trying to take over. The dark walls of his room closing in around him.

He forced himself to sit up. The thin covers sliding off his chest unchecked. He took deep calming breaths, hoping that that would stave off what could be a massive attack.

"It's not real."

Deep breath in.

"It's just a dream."

Exhale.

"Everything is fine."

It had been a week since the first nightmare. He'd had one every night since and they kept getting worse.

Taking a few more breaths he got up, ready to face the day.

* * *

Sam's eyes flew open, his pupils dilating as they desperately searched to identify his surroundings. He could feel the mounting panic as his eyes darted around the dark and unfamiliar room.

He heard a deep breath and rustling to his right and immediately settled.

Dean.

The memories came pouring back in. He was on a hunt with Dean. They were in Louisiana, dealing with a simple salt and burn. So simple in fact that they arrived yesterday night and were able to dispatch the ghost last night.

Barely worth the drive really. He turned over to look at Dean and immediately regretted the action. It was like his brain refocused its full attention on his shoulder and throbbing pain started to radiate through his body.

Clenching his eyes shut, he froze as the waves of nauseating pain pulsated. All he could do was breathe through it until it passed. Eventually he was able to focus on other things as the pain lessened to a maddening pulse.

The case __had__ been an easy one but for one complication. He was distracting the ghost while Dean applied the salt and accelerator when he'd miscalculated and the ghost had thrown him into a headstone.

Luckily, he blocked his fall with his shoulder. He was so filled with adrenaline at the time that he'd simply gotten up and kept running. A hurt shoulder was definitely better than a dead one.

He had taken a really good pain killer when they were done, figuring it was just a minor injury but he was starting to think it might be worse than he originally thought.

He gingerly reached for the bottle of pills near his bed and swallowed one dry. There was no way he was going to be able to get up fr water at that point.

' _ _If it still hurts this badly in the morning__ ,' He thought, ' _ _I'll tell Dean__.'

Already he could feel the waves of pain ebbing and sleep soothing through him.

Dean firmly in his sights, his eyes drifted closed, nightmare completely forgotten.

* * *

Sitting against the headboard, Sam stared into the empty void that was the darkness of his bedroom.

He had not slept for four nights now and was starting to feel like a zombie.

The morning after their hunt in Louisiana, he woke up in so much pain that Dean had rushed him to the hospital.

Luckily his shoulder was not broken but it was bad enough.

The doctor, all five foot three inches of her, gave him such a quelling look when he tried to throw bullshit at her about how he got hurt, that he was more than willing to follow her instructions of sick leave and light or no activity for three weeks.

His job was fighting monsters and completely voluntary so it wasn't really a hardship. And the way Dean was nodding raptly at the doctor's instructions told him that he wouldn't be doing anything much anyway.

For the first week it was fine. He was completely drugged and Dean was at his beck and call. The second week though was a little more strained.

Sam was an addict. He knew it and so did Dean. So that second week, Dean cut him off from the pain meds. Only allowing him one before bed.

He became more irritable because of the pain and as a result they were getting on each others nerves to the point that Sam found Dean a case and chased him out the bunker.

Dean's been gone almost six days now. This is the fourth night that Sam has been awake in his bed.

The first week back, he'd been so drugged and loopy that he didn't remember dreaming. The second week he was so busy being annoyed with Dean, so __focused__ on Dean that he'd forgotten completely about his nightmares.

The first night Dean left is when it all came crashing down. It's been years since they'd gone on separate or solo hunts. One was always with the other to watch his back.

Sam was always there to save Dean and vice versa. But he wasn't there this time.

As he laid in his bed that first night his brother, thousands of miles away, the stray thought, __what if something happens and I'm not there,__ wiggled its way into his mind and wouldn't go away.

He'd had the worst nightmare yet. To the point where he ended up calling Dean at 2am in the morning just to make sure he was still alive.

Turns out Dean hadn't even arrived yet. He was still driving. He was only able to relax slightly when Dean promised to call him again in the day time but sleep was definitely out of the question.

Dean did call the next day and of course teased him mercilessly.

This had led him into a false sense of security and if he thought the nightmare before was bad the one he had that night rocked him to his foundations. And that was the last straw.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Dean continued to call him everyday despite his earlier teasing but Sam knew that he wasn't going to be safe from the nightmares until he could see for himself that Dean was indeed alive and well.

It's been four sleepless nights. The first two nights he spent working in the library but by the third night he lost the ability to retain any of the information he was trying to absorb. He could feel just how tired he was but his mind refused to shut down.

Dean was driving back right this moment and would be home sometime in the afternoon . He could wait a few more hours to sleep. Besides this was getting ridiculous. He needed to solve the problem once and for all.

And so he stared into the darkness waiting, thinking.


	2. Wake Up

Notes

Wake Up - Eden

For some reason my dividers weren't showing up in the first chapter. Hopefully I'll b more successful with this one. -sigh-

Please let me know what you think in a comment. Thank you

* * *

It's surprising how loud silence can be. He'd lived in the bunker for years now but he never noticed just how much ambient sound filled the cavernous rooms. The lights buzzed softly overhead. The machinery that powered the place thrummed. It wasn't a distracting sound. Just present—noticeable in the absence of his brother.

Sam sat at the first chair in the war room, looking up the stairs. Any moment now, Dean would appear at the top and all the noise in the room would disappear.

Dean had started his long drive from Pennsylvania late last night. While it was a twenty five hour drive, he knew that Dean would make it home closer to twenty hours and truth be told he couldn't wait to see his brother. It had only been a week and they talked on the phone everyday, but it felt like he'd forgotten what Dean looked like.

He could feel this low grade excitement humming below the surface of his skin. It mixed in with the vibrating exhaustion of his body. Anticipation at seeing his best friend again. He was almost giddy with it – although that could again be the exhaustion.

He looked at the book in front of him, barely noticing the words on the page. It was just there as a prop anyway so Dean wouldn't know that he was sitting there, waiting for him. He lost himself in his thoughts as he waited.

* * *

The familiar releasing of the locks jolted him into the present and his heart started to pound against his chest. _That was kinda weird,_ he thought, but he didn't have the time to focus on it. At the top of the stairs he could see the door opening and there was Dean entering the room with a giant grin on his face.

"Hiya Sammy. Missed me?" he asked as he entered the room, before shuffling down each step in a casual run. Before Sam could even formulate an answer to that that wasn't half way embarrassing, Dean stopped in front of him, arms open. "Well? Where's my hug? I could have died out there you know."

Sam's heart squeezed a little as that echoed his earlier worries but he pushed it down forcibly. Dean was just joking.

He got up with a smile and stepped into his brother's embrace. "Welcome home Dean," he said as he closed his arms around him tightly, slapping him on the back to emphasize his words.

He felt Dean's arms closed around him just as tightly, one hand in his hair, cradling his skull briefly. "Thanks Sammy," before releasing the hug and putting Sam at arms length to give him a concerned look. "Dude. You okay? How's your shoulder?"

"I'm alright. Just tired is all," he hedged not meeting his brother's eyes. "And my shoulder's good. Barely hurts anymore."

Dean nodded at that. "You didn't have to wait up for me you know. If you were tired, you should've just gone to bed."

"I wasn't waiting for you," Sam spluttered. _How did he know?_

"Uh huh," Dean said, taking the seat opposite Sam's.

Sam went over to the liquor tray and poured him a shot of whiskey. Plopping it down in front of his brother, he took his seat again.

"You're my favourite," Dean said as thanks.

Smiling, Sam waved it off and asked, "So? How'd it go?"

He leaned back in his chair, listening to Dean's colourful retelling of his hunt involving a cursed object. Things were right with the world again. He didn't even realize that he'd fallen asleep until Dean gently shook him awake. "Go to bed Sam."

"Not tired. Listening," he said with sleep muffled voice.

"Dude you _just_ fell asleep. I wasn't going to say anything but you're kinda looking like something that I'd have to hunt. Go to bed. I'll tell you the rest in the morning."

"Alright." He did feel sleepy finally. Lifting his six three frame, he shambled down the hall to his room, a ghost of a smile fighting to take over his lips. He didn't know how Dean did it, but he always managed to make Sam feel like that little boy again.

He dropped his long frame onto his bed and was asleep in seconds...

* * *

He could feel himself slowly drifting into wakefulness. For the first time in a long time, he felt good. Turning over onto his back, he threw a hand over his eyes as he stretched out his legs. Since there were no windows in the bunker, it was hard to tell what time of day it was but it felt like he'd slept for a long time.

He sat up and stretched his limbs luxuriously. There were only the faint echoes of pain in his shoulder and he rotated it slightly to see what kind of mobility he had available. He hadn't been able to do his proper workout routine since he'd gotten hurt, seems like he'd be able to start again, as early as tomorrow even.

His stomach made this truly embarrassing sound that had him blushing even though he was in the room by himself. Guess everything was returning to normal now that he'd had a decent night's sleep. Getting up, he stretched again, a low groan of satisfaction escaping him as his bones popped and his muscles loosened.

 _Food_ , his mind demanded, sending him to the kitchen.

* * *

"He lives," Dean greeted as soon as he entered the kitchen.

"I guess I was more tired than I thought." He sat at the table as Dean started to pull things out of the fridge.

"No kidding. Dude you looked like a revanant last night."

"Ha ha."

Dean placed a cup of coffee in front of him and his stomach grumbled again, quietly this time. He took a nice long drink of the hot liquid, his eyes closed in pleasure and appreciation. Sighing, he put the cup down and turned to his brother.

"Where're the scissors now?" Contrary to what Dean thought, Sam had been listening to his story of the cursed ancient pair of scissors.

"It's in a warded iron box. One of Bobby's old ones. I left it in the Impala so you could do your thing and destroy it."

Sam nodded, already making a mental inventory of all the items he would need to safely destroy the object. Although from what Dean had said last night, this was not a typical cursed object so he might have to see it and do some research. The regular methods might not work and he didn't want to make a mistake and end up with one of them wearing a pair of scissors. After all the things they had done and been through, dying by cursed object would get them laughed out of Heaven and Hell both.

"I can see that big brain of yours working. You gonna need my help?" He placed a heaping plate of scrambled eggs with veggies and toast in front of his brother.

"Nah. I might have to do some research on the object but apart from that I'll just catalogue it and destroy it."

Dean sat next to him with his own plate of eggs and bacon and nodded. "Good. I didn't like how Baby handled on the drive here. I wanna get under her hood and see what's what."

* * *

Gasping, he jolted up from his bed, his heart racing a mile a minute as he struggled to catch his breath. He tried to force himself to calm as he slowly sank back down onto his bed, a frustrated sound escaping his lips.

"Fuck!" he said with feeling. _Why did this keep happening?_ He knew what the problem was but to deal with it, he would have to talk to Dean and he did not want to. He did not want to appear weak to his brother.

He just wanted to get a few nights of restful, uninterrupted sleep.

Sighing, he got up. He might as well start up his workout routine. He was getting out of shape anyway. He turned on his light and got dressed into running gear. He grabbed his phone and headphones and turned on his running playlist.

As the high paced music started to play, he strapped a knife holster to his thigh with a rune-etched blade in. He also got his "FBI" gun holster and gun just to be safe. It was four in the morning. Lots of people would already be up and about by this time but it was always better to be prepared.

* * *

Sinking down from the push up, Sam's mind flashed back to a memory from earlier in the day. He'd just returned from his run, sweaty and exhausted and Dean was sitting in the library cleaning the guns.

Dean liked to make sure that their weapons were in top condition so he would sometimes just get them out so he could clean and calibrate them.

He gave him a look as Sam came down the stairs, but didn't say anything. At the time, he'd been in such a hurry to escape the room without having to answer questions, that Sam didn't really pay it much attention. He'd simply said a quick, "morning," over his shoulder on his way to the showers.

Right now though, in the dead of night, while he tried to exhaust himself with exercise, his mind was hyper magnifying that look.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Dean suspected something. He hadn't said anything through out the day. In fact, it was a normal day for them, but Sam knew that he knew, somehow, and this made him feel unease.

He started the set over again, even more determined. Sweat dripped off his bare back. He was going to knock himself out if it was the last thing he did.

 _1, 2, 3..._

* * *

Sam paced his room, groaning in frustration. He'd been awake now for five days. He was so tired but the fear of another earth shattering nightmare kept him awake. It was like his mind refused to release its hold on consciousness. In contrast, he could feel a slight tremor in his limbs as they begged him to rest.

He was pacing the floor of his room as he tried to build the courage to go to Dean. It wasn't too late right now. Chances were high that his brother was still awake but for some reason he couldn't seem to get himself to walk the few feet down the hall.

He just wanted to sleep. He looked at the door again and made another sound of frustration when instead of going to it, he made another circuit of his room.

Dean was always so tough. He was his fearless big brother and Sam had been trying to be like him all his life. He didn't want Dean to seem him when he was so weak. He wanted Dean to be able to trust and depend on him the same way he could Dean.

He ran his hand carelessly through his hair as his mind raced.

He was actually surprised that Dean hadn't called him out all week even though he had to know something was up. Not much escaped Dean's notice and he'd been tense all week waiting. It was kind of ridiculous just how on edge he was. It's not that he'd never looked weak in front of Dean. His demon blood days and the trials came to mind immediately.

Maybe he didn't want Dean to ever look at him the same way he did as when he was addicted to demon blood. His brother had lost faith in him because he wasn't strong enough. He stopped being an equal to Dean and became the nuisance little brother he had to take care of.

The problem was that he couldn't do this on his own. By not trusting in Dean, he was endangering them both. What if he kept going like this and something bad happened during a hunt? Last time he'd hurt his shoulder and it was basically a milk run. What about the next time when their backs were to the wall and Dean was depending on him?

He sat on his bed at that sobering thought, then got up again.

"Fuck it!" he said, yanked the door open and stepped out.

He walked quickly down the hall to Dean's room, not allowing himself to think. Stopping in front of the door, his fist hovered. He _could_ still go back to his room.

With determination, he rapped on the door.

"Dean?" he called softly.


	3. (I've Got You) Brother

Brother - Kodaline

* * *

"Dean," he called softly. His heart was thundering against his rib cage. He did not know why he was so nervous. It was just Dean.

"Yea?" he heard, before the door opened, catching him off guard. He felt silly standing there, but Dean did not pay that any mind. His brows were already creased in concern. "What's wrong."

"No- no," Sam hastened to say. "Nothing's wrong. It's just..." There, his voice trailed off as his words escaped him.

"Well come on in. No use standing out here in the hallway." He moved to the side to allow Sam room to enter.

Gratefully, Sam quickly entered the room. It granted him a slight reprieve. He had a few precious seconds to gather his thoughts.

He watched as Dean closed the door and took a sit on the couch in his room. Sam started to feel silly standing in the middle of Dean's room. Like a child in a place they weren't allowed to be.

Dean tightened the straps of his dead guy robes. He looked like he was just preparing to go to bed. Sam couldn't help thinking that he looked comfortable, relaxed.

"Well. What's going on?" Dean asked expectantly.

"Actually... So..." he gestured with his hands awkwardly. Now that he was here, he did not know how to say what was on his mind. Guess the reprieve didn't really do much.

"Come on Sam. Spit it out." Dean, impatient as always.

"So it's not a big deal or anything but I've kind of been having nightmares and trouble sleeping, so can I crash on your couch?" Sam said in a rush. I don't want to be alone, hang in the air around them both unsaid. He stood there feeling more vulnerable than he had at any point in his life. It felt like he'd just bared his throat to a knife.

Dean opened his mouth to speak but then abruptly closed it. He was giving Sam that look again. It soon it turned into a considering one.

"You have been looking really worn down lately man. Want to talk about it?"

At this Sam made a slight pained face. "Honestly right now I'm just so tired. I just want to crash."

"Alright. When you're ready," He said easily. He was making it clear that there was no escaping. He'd let it go without saying anything throughout the week but now that they were acknowledging this, Sam wasn't going to be able to avoid it.

Dean got up and started to pull down the covers on the bed. The light of the night lamp cast soft shadows across his back as the fabric of his robe moved with him.

Sam had not moved from his spot yet. Just observing his brother. It was so strange. They had shared a room for the majority of their lives. When they traveled with dad, or when they ran out of money they'd even shared beds occasionally. Heck they'd shared a motel room only a few weeks ago, yet this felt... intimate. Maybe because the room was so clearly Dean's. It was his space. It felt like he was invading it somehow and this made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Sam shrugged and moved to sit on the couch.

"Take the bed Sammy. I'll take the couch."

"No Dean. It's fine," his face scrunched up a little.

"Come on dude. You look like you're about to keel over. Take the bed," he insisted. "I can survive a night on the couch."

"I don't want to put y-"

"Come on princess. You need your beauty sleep," he cut him off. "Don't fight me on this." Dean said straightening up and turning to look at his brother.

Smiling tiredly, Sam got off the couch and moved to the bed. He gave Dean a grateful look and climbed in. He watched as Dean got settled on the couch, pulling the throw rug over his body. His robe hanging off the end of the couch.

"Get some sleep Sammy," he said.

"Okay," Sam answered softly. He reached over and turned off the lights before lying back down on his back, the covers tucked under his arms. He stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking.

After several minutes of silence he said, "You knew."

"Hmm?" Dean mumbled sleepily

"You knew something was wrong." This time with even more conviction. That look he'd been getting playing over and over in his mind. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He heard rustling on the couch. Dean must have turned to face him. "You're an adult Sam. I gotta start treating you like one some time right?" he said wryly. "In my mind you will always be my kid brother and that makes it hard to see you as the overgrown man that you are but you aren't a kid anymore. So I can't keep treating you like one," He said this with almost a tinge of deprecation. "I figured you'd come to me when you were ready. Sure took your time about it though. Bitch."

Chuckling softly, Sam answered him with, "Jerk."

He turned over onto his stomach and rubbed his face into the pillow, taking a deep breath. It smelled so much like Dean—like home. It was almost like a drug. He could feel himself sinking into the throes of sleep.

"'Night Dean," he murmured. As he lost consciousness he thought he heard a "'night Sam," which tucked a smile on his lips.

* * *

He woke up to gentle hands shaking him. "Sorry to wake you up brother. You've been asleep for fourteen hours. Come eat something and you can go back to sleep."

"Dean?" he croaked, voice sandpaper rough with sleep.

"Yea buddy," he whispered. "I was starting to think you were in a coma."

Sam stretched his aching muscles and let out a long groan. Dean chuckled as he gave him a friendly slap on the back "Atta boy. Come on. Come eat something and if you still want to you can go back to sleep."

"Alright," Sam sighed as he flopped over onto his back.

"Meet you in the kitchen." Already on his way out the door, Dean chuckled again and shook his head.

Taking a deep breath, Sam quickly sat up in bed and immediately regretted it as the world around him started to spin and swirl and his vision dipped in and out. Dropping back down onto the bed again, he moaned at the sharp pains stabbing his skull. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a few seconds. He felt so comfortable where he was but he knew that if he took too long, Dean would come looking for him. He got up again, this time taking it slow.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he propped both hands on his knees and let his neck hang down. He felt so groggy, like his muscles had atrophied. He had to really concentrate to get his limbs to move. He stretched his long arms over his head, reaching for the ceiling and let out this high pitched whine. It was insane how amazing a good stretch could feel.

Smiling at nothing in particular, he got up and trudged down to the kitchen.

"There you are," Dean exclaimed as he sat at the table. "I can cancel the search party."

"Sorry. Still feeling a little tired I guess,"

Whatever Dean was about to say died on his lips. He stopped what he was doing and came to stand in front of Sam surprising him. "W-what's going on."

"How are you feeling?" Dean ignored him to ask.

"Tired and a little achy. No big deal." It really wasn't. He'd felt worse than this more times than he could remember.

"You look like a lobster. I think you have a fever." Just as Dean put his giant palm against his forehead. "Dude. You're burning up." He started pulling out drawers. "We have a thermometer right?"

"Not in the kitchen we don't," he snarked. "Seriously. Chill" he said as Dean continued looking through all the drawers.

"You – chill," he stuttered. Comeback king Dean, ladies and gentlemen. "Actually that's a good idea." He poured Sam a cup of cool water. "Drink this."

Sam drank his water obediently. He was feeling a little patched. He put the glass down and jumped slightly when he noticed that Dean was looking at him – really looking at him.

"What?" he paused. "I'm fine. I promise. Fevers are only really dangerous to kids and immune compromised adults. I'll just take some Tylenol."

"You'll tell me if you feel like you can't handle it?"

"Yes Dean. I promise." He said again.

Nodding decisively Dean asked, "feel like you can eat?"

"Yea but not a lot."

* * *

After eating, Dean sent him back to sleep but he was not sure if that meant he could go back to Dean's room or not. Hesitating outside his brother's room, he decided to take a detour and went to his own room.

He didn't think Dean would mind but it wasn't cool to just assume. Grabbing his towel, he headed down to the showers. That could help bring his temperature down.

Padding into the first stall, he undressed absently as his mind drifted back to his brother. Dean was being unusually nice. Not to say that he didn't always put Sam first. He did. It's just that it was bordering on pampering him. When he got like that, Sam found himself regressing into that little boy who basked in his big brothers affections. He didn't like that about himself because he felt like he lost himself, his identity in Dean.

The lukewarm water poured over his body in a steady flow and he let his head fall forward, his full weight resting on his arms as they propped him up against the wall. He could hear the roar of the water as it beat down on his head, drenching his hair and blurring his vision.

Dean was being patient now but he knew that no matter what he'd said last night, Sam didn't have long before Dean would be demanding that he start talking.

He didn't know how to organize his thoughts. How was he going to explain this all to Dean?

Grabbing his soap, he lathered his body perfunctorily.

All of this was exhausting. With a sound of frustration, he quickly rinsed off and turned off the shower. Wrapping the towel low on his hips, he walked the short distance to his room, dried off quickly and got dressed.

All of this left him feeling exhausted. He was starting to get sleepy again. His earlier dilemma resurfaced. He wanted to go to his brother's room but he wasn't sure if the invitation was still open.

He waffled back and forth for a short while before chickening out and dropping himself onto his bed. Climbing under the covers, he closed his eyes, determined to sleep.

Several minutes later, he turned over onto his side. A few minutes after that, he turned to his other side. That soon followed with him rolling onto his stomach and finally his back. He laughed this humorless sound and closed his eyes.

Not long ago he was so tired. Now he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He dragged the fingers of both hands into his damp hair and sighed again.

A soft familiar scent wafted under his nose. He couldn't quite place it. Frowning, he searched the source and realized that it was coming from him. Bringing his wrist to his nose, he took a deep breath in.

He smelled like Dean.

It was subtle but definitely there. He must have accidentally used Dean's body wash. A deep feeling of longing settled over him.

"This is stupid," he said. He would go to Dean's room. He was being ridiculous. It's not like Dean would get angry at him or anything.

Quickly walking down the hall, he paused outside his brother's room, ears to the door. It was quiet in there. Dean must be in the garage or something.

He quietly opened the door and peaked in only to freeze. There was Dean lying on the couch back to the door. He had headphones on and was watching a movie on his laptop.

He closed the laptop and turned around when he noticed the light at the door. Taking off his headphones, he smiled at the deer in the headlights look on his brother's face.

"You forgot to take the Tylenol." He pointed to the bottle of pills and cup of water on the nightstand.

Sam closed the door when Dean gestured for him to come over. "Feeling any better?"

Shrugging, "about the same."

"Take your pills and sleep it off. I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Alright." He quickly swallowed down two pills and the entire glass of water and hopped into the bed.

"Get some rest kiddo," Dean said as he picked up the glass and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Sighing contentedly, Sam turned over and hugged the pillow to his face. That familiar scent again, this time stronger and slightly mixed with his own. He had to admit that it appealed a lot. Sighing again, he couldn't help thinking that he had the best big brother in the world. Maybe it was the fever making him delirious but he felt settled.

All his worrying had been for nothing. Every time. Dean continued to surprise him. How could he care so fully and completely for him? How could he continue to put Sam first so unwaveringly after so many years?

Suddenly he didn't feel so worried about talking to Dean after all. Maybe it would all work out. His brother would never abandon him. He fell asleep with that thought as his anchor and didn't have a single nightmare.

* * *

Leave a comment to let me know what you thought. Thanks :)


	4. (Brother, Let Me Be Your) Shelter

Sam woke up gently. He could feel himself slowly gaining consciousness. Opening his eyes, he took a relaxed breath. It had been so long since he'd felt so like himself. He didn't feel tired or drained. The achiness was also gone.

Unfortunately, this meant that his nightmares really could only be fixed by confronting them and to do that he needed to talk to Dean. Any inkling of second thoughts were definitely out of the question.

He wondered what time it was. It felt early. Propping himself on his elbows, he looked around the room and was surprised to see his brother's form asleep on the couch.

Sitting up fully, Sam swang his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn't want to wake Dean if he could help it.

He sat there for a few seconds taking inventory of his body and was relieved to find that his earlier assessment was correct. He was completely back to normal or as close to that as to not feel any side effects.

Tip toeing out of the room, he strolled to the bathrooms to relieve himself. He tried not to think about what he knew would have to happen today. When he thought about it, it made him feel shivery. A potent mix of anticipation and fear.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror assessingly before losing focus as his eyes wandered down to the dark depths of the drain.

Could this ruin them? They'd just started to be brothers again. It seemed that for years they just couldn't seem to connect properly. It felt like finally Dean had forgiven him. It would probably be best to not dredge all this up again. Leave well enough alone as it were.

Maybe if he didn't remind Dean of all the times he'd betrayed him, Dean would simply forget and Sam could be his little brother again. He'd been operating under that idea for a long time and it seemed to be okay.

Except that it wasn't. His nightmares made that abundantly clear.

Sighing, he splashed cold water on his face and headed to the kitchen. If they were gonna do this then he wanted a big plate of all Dean's favourite foods in front of him. It wasn't a bribe per say but it also wasn't not a bribe.

* * *

He froze as he entered the kitchen. Dean was already sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee from the smell of it. He also had a bowl of corn flakes in front of him.

"Morning." He tipped his cup at Sam in cheers.

Well there went that plan. "Hey Dean," he said pouring himself a bowl also. "What time is it?"

"Around six am last time I checked." He said this with his mouth full. Sam rolled his eyes while making a fake disgusted face. "How are you feeling?"

"Good."

Spoon hovering half way to his mouth, milking splashing in and around the bowl, Dean paused to look at his brother.

"Really," Sam hurried to assure. "I feel good."

"Alright. I believe you man. You definitely look like you could be my brother," Giving him a cheeky smile, "I have a reputation to protect you know. Can't have no fuglies related to me,"

Sam threw his spoon at him in annoyance. Dodging the milky utensil, Dean laughed, "I'm kidding. Jeez! Learn to take a joke. And pick that up. I'm not your maid."

Doing as he was told, Sam picked the spoon up off the floor. "No kidding. I'd never hire such a butch maid." He placed the dirty spoon in the sink and got another one.

"Dude! Words hurt."

Sam gave him an incredulous look. Sometimes he couldn't believe his brother.

"You're really okay?" Dean asked in a moment of seriousness.

Reclaiming his seat, "Yea. I'm good," he said softly and focused back on his cereal.

* * *

Sam sat on his bed. He hadn't brought up his nightmares all day and true to his word, Dean hadn't said a single thing about it. It seemed that he was going to wait for Sam to bring it up. It was night again but it was still early enough.

He knew that he definitely wanted to do this now but it was just a matter of how to approach it. After thinking and thinking, the only thing he could come up with was just to tackle it head on. That was the plan.

Getting up, he went in search of his brother. He walked around the entire bunker but couldn't find Dean anywhere.

He must be in his room, he thought. It was so early in the evening that he did not even think to look there. Nothing was working in his favour today. For some reason, talking to Dean about this in his room seemed too personal.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked to his brother's room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," he heard through the door and with resolve, he entered the room. Again Dean was lying on the couch. It seemed that he had been using the laptop but right now it was shut on the floor.

Closing the door softly, Sam turned to look at Dean only for his eyes to dart around the room when their eyes met.

"So... as you know, I've kind of been having nightmares." He definitely wasn't looking at Dean as he said that.

"Yes."

"Alright so I've been having them for a while now," he continued shakily.

"Uh-hmm," Dean hummed to let him know he was listening.

"They kinda have to do with you." He paused again for a stretch. "This is kind of hard to do," he chuckled weakly seating on the bed.

"Alright hold on," Dean said. "Lay in the bed and turn off the lights."

"What?" Sam asked confused. That came out of no where. He ran his toes absently on the carpet near the bed.

"Shut up this makes sense. It'll be like we're in the Impala. We talk there all the time and it's always dark."

Shrugging in agreement, Sam climbed into the bed and turned off the lights. God, he loved Dean's bed. Just like last night, he pulled the covers up under his arms again and kept his eyes on the ceiling. He didn't feel even a little tired. In fact he was buzzing with energy.

"So you've been having nightmares about me," Dean prompted.

"Yea," and he stopped. Taking deep breaths as he remembered.

"Can you tell me?" Dean asked softly. He sounded like he really wanted to know, but he didn't want to push.

"There were many. Some were down right unbearable but the one that sticks with me the most is the first one. You know?" He absently scratched at the scraggly hair on his chin. "It was about that time Metatron killed you." This came out as a whisper. As if if he said it softly, that moment wouldn't exist in reality.

Dean didn't say anything. Maybe he knew that Sam had to get this out.

"When it happened, I was too far away to do anything but I will always hear that gasp you made. For a while when you were a demon, it played on repeat in my head. That was the sound of my failure." He clenched his fists into the sheets.

"In the dream, everything happened the same except that when you died, Metatron's voice whispered to me that it was my fault. You died because of the lies I'd told you and the secrets I'd kept. In the dream, the Mark of Cain doesn't bring you back. You died and nothing I did could bring you back. All the while Metatron kept saying that it was my fault."

"Sammy," Dean sighed sadly. "You have to know that that is not true."

"That's what I kept telling myself. It's just a dream. It's not true. It wadn't real," He shook his head in the darkness, trying to chase away the remnants of the memories unsuccessfully. "But somewhere deep down, I knew that I was lying to myself."

"Sammy-"

"No Dean," he cut his brother off. "You think I didn't fight those words? Over and over I kept denying it and over and over I watched you die in more horrible ways. All the while knowing it was my fault." This he insisted. "Dream Metatron was me. He was just saying what I was thinking subconsciously and you know what? He was right."

"You can't carry all the blame here Sam. We both made mistakes along the way."

"Yes I can Dean!" he said vehemently, sitting up in the bed.

"Calm down. You're working yourself up," Dean sternly chastised him for his efforts.

"Sorry," he sank back down onto the bed in a huff. "I can prove it. Clearly dream me wanted me to be honest with you in a way that I had never been before."

The room settled into silence for a moment. "Dean?" he said.

"I'm here Sammy,"

"I know you are. Can I tell you something?"

"Of course you can. You can tell me anything."

"You can't make fun of me for this later though alright?"

"Scout's honour," he swore.

Ignoring the fact that Dean was never a scout, he continued. "Actually I always wanted to be a hunter like you."

"No way." He could hear Dean's disbelief clearly. He sounded so dumbfounded

A quick burst of laughter escaped him. "Really. There was a time all I wanted to do was hunt. That was around the time I had Sully."

"Oh yea. I remember that. You were always bugging me to get dad to let you hunt." He could hear the couch creaking under Dean's weight and it served to make it more real than just a disembodied voice floating in the darkness. "What happened?" Dean asked.

"Well no matter how hard I tried I wadn't good enough. I mean I practiced and ran and did everything. Dad wouldn't let me hunt. It was so unfair you know. When you were my age, he let you do all kinds of things but he wouldn't let me. He kept treating me like a baby. Come to think of it, that's kind of when I started hating him." He paused. "Well not hate really, more that I was angry with him."

"Hmm," Dean murmured.

"The angrier I was at him though, the more I looked up to you. You were able to do these amazing things and to me it made you seem invincible. You say you're batman but to me, you were more like Superman."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "All I wanted was to go out hunting with you. Be like my big brother. But all I kept getting was no. So I started to dislike hunting because it took you away. I felt like I was always alone. You were gone. Dad was gone and anytime I made some friends to fill the void, we'd have to leave."

"I'm sorry Sammy. I didn't know."

"I know Dean. I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling. I didn't want you to think I was a baby, like dad did. No matter what, you always treated me like I was smart and like you wanted to hear what I had to say so I wadn't gonna whine to you like a kid."

"At the same time, the teachers at all those schools kept saying that I should think about college. I was feeling so stifled by dad that I just wanted to get out, you know?" He rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't think that by leaving Dad I'd be leaving you too. So much for being smart huh?

"My first few months at school were so hard. I spent so much time fighting myself. I wanted to call you so badly. We'd left on such a bad note and I was afraid you'd say you hated me. So I stayed away. I didn't call no matter how much really I wanted to. I even started drinking for a moment there."

"Sammy..." Dean said sadly.

"I was spiraling so badly," he continued. "Luckily I met Jessica. She saved me man. I think that's why it hurt so bad that she died because of me. She was good and pure." His voice trembled slightly. There would always be an ache in his heart that belonged to Jess.

"I'd been gone for a while when I was finally able to convinced myself that maybe I'd over hyped you in my mind. You couldn't be as cool as I'd thought. I was just polishing my memories. I was able to stop missing you so much and just accept that I couldn't really have spent my life riding in the backseat of my dad's car with you. Most siblings, no matter how close, always ended up going their separate ways and this was just our time to do this. And then you ruined it all when you broke into my apartment. We went on that case together. Remember? The woman in white?"

Dean chuckled as he remembered. His voice rumbled in the dark. It reminded Sam of the Impala somehow.

"You were just as I remembered. Not only that but finally I got what I had always wanted. To go hunting with my big brother. I knew as soon as you dropped me back at my apartment it was gonna be so hard to get back to normal after you left but what could I do? I couldn't just bail. I had that interview and a devoted girlfriend. She'd done so much for me. But man I wanted to. So badly," He admitted. He remembered the longing he'd felt as he'd entered his apartment. Before he found Jess.

"We've been traveling together off and on now for twelve years Dean and in that time there were some things I had to accept about you. You were fearless. You were always right and even though you were human, supernatural beings were terrified of you.

"What the hell dude," Dean laughed.

"I'm serious. The first time we met the angels, I was in complete awe but not you. You called them dicks and—and junkless! I couldn't believe it."

"During that fight with Micheal and Lucifer in Stull Cemetery, you just walked up to him all, 'Hey we need to talk,'" at this his voice dipped in imitation of Dean. "It was like he didn't even matter. You basically dismissed him. The biggest baddest being in our world. Same deal with God and Amara and so many powerful supernaturals. You're fearless."

"I definitely feel fear Sammy." Dean admitted.

"You do a good job of hiding it. You always seem so unfazed. I wanted to be strong like that too. You were always coming to my rescue. I wanted to save you too. I wanted to do the same thing for you."

"You do Sammy," he said with conviction. "You want to know why I can stand up to those things? It's not because I'm fearless. It's cause of you. I know that some how you'll find a way to get us out."

"Wait. What?"

"It's true. You always manage to find a way for us to survive. I don't always agree with your methods but you do."

"That's another thing Dean. I look at you and I see a hero and I feel unworthy of the faith you have in me. It's taken me a long time to accept that in my world there are some truths. Numbers are infinite, God has a sister and my big brother will do anything for me– including die." He delivered this with such acceptance and certainty. "You don't know how heavy that last truth is. Because of this, I've made you do some truly horrible things. Things that go against who you are as a person."

"That's not true. I've never done anything I didn't want to do."

"You might have done it willingly but it went against who you were. You trusted Ruby because I asked you to, even though everything in you told you not to. You went back to hell to see Lucifer even though again your gut told you not to and you were right. You only went because I insisted."

Dean was suspiciously quiet as he said this.

"Every decision you've made, you made in relation to something I did, said or asked you to do. The mark of Cain." He was on a roll now. "You only went with Crowley because I said that I would let you die and we should stop being "brothers". Those words led you to that warehouse with Metatron and your demon self fought against becoming human again because you didn't want to face what my words meant."

"You're thinking of it too deeply."

"I have to Dean!" he said sharply. "I have to," again, quietly this time.

"You're basically Superman and my words have the ability to affect your decisions. So when I keep things from you or you are blindsided or when I ask you to do things that go against your gut. Bad things happen.

"You realize that in this analogy you're basically saying that you're Lois Lane right?"

"What? No way. You're Lois Lane," he shot back.

"No I'm Superman. You're a brunette in a pencil skirt," Dean smirked. Sam knew that he was just trying to defuse the tension in the air and he was grateful.

"My point is that we're supposed to be partners. You're supposed to be able to trust me and me you."

"I do trust you Sam." Dean's quiet admission shattered Sam. He hadn't heard those words in such a long time. They were so filled with sincerity that he couldn't take them for anything but truth.

"I know, but the problem is that you would die for me and I would die for you but we still willingly keep things from each other. Every time we've done this, something bad has happened to one of us, someone we cared about or the world. You say you trust me-"

"I do," Dean insisted.

"And I trust you too. So why do we still keep things from each other? Why can't you trust me with what's in your head? And I know. I know. You don't like chick flick moments but Dean at this point it's unlikely that I'll ever be able to build a life outside of hunting and I don't want to," He hurried to add.

"This is what I always wanted when I was a kid and it's everything I hoped for. But I can't watch you die again. Especially if it happens because we weren't able to talk to each other. I want to be able to tell you things without worrying. I want you to tell me when I'm being an idiot or when your gut tells you I'm wrong. Instead of just doing it because you can't say no to me."

"Alright listen to me carefully. I'll always tease you. I'm your brother. It's kind of in the job description but," Dean sat up for this. "You will always be able to come to me. No matter what. Whenever you need me I'm always gonna be there. I've told you this a million times," he said exasperatedly. "You some how built me up in your head but Sam I'm just a person. I'm not fearless. I'm not invincible. Most times I jump into these situations crapping my pants. You didn't hear me the first time I said it so I'll say it again. I can only go into these things because I know you're going to come up with an answer. My strategy is to bluff and distract until you get us out.

"You're not making me do anything. I trust you over my gut any day for the same reason I trust you to have my back. You always come up with out of the box solutions. Things I'd never think of and truth is that a lot of the times our backs are to the wall. Any shot even a long one is better than none and if it doesn't work, I know you'll come up with something else. You always do."

He laughs humourlessly. "You're separating them but these scenarios are all the same thing. What you're describing is our everyday lives. When we're in a tight spot, you come up with a crazy plan and ask me to trust you. Whether that is dealing with a ghost, a deity, trusting Ruby or letting you jump into the hole with Satan. You're just focusing on the times your plan didn't work. They're not different situations."

"I'll always bet on you Sam,' he continued. "Even if your first or second plan fails. Even if the plan is crazy, risky, dangerous or out there I will always bet on you."

Sam could feel the tell tale prickling of tears fighting their way to the surface. He'd never thought of it that way. All this time he thought that he was steering Dean down a path that he would end up hating him for, when actually Dean was following him truly because he trusted him and knew that no matter what they'd figure it out together.

He coughed, trying to fight back the tears.

"Dude are you crying?"

"No I'm not. Shut up." He could hear the wobbliness in his voice and coughed again.

"Uh huh. Sure thing Samantha," Dean teased. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Each lost in their thoughts.

"I agree with you though about being more open. I'll try to be better at that Sammy. I'm not promising that I'll be great at it but I will try."

"Thank you," Sam said around a yawn. "I will too." Suddenly he felt drained.

"Sleep now. We can talk more in the morning."

"Kay. Night Dean," he whispered sleepily as he turned over in the bed.

"You too Sam."


	5. (It's Down To) Me and You

I've taken some artistic liberty.

Dust and Gold - Arrows to Athens

* * *

Despite bracing himself for it, Sam was surprised that there was no awkwardness or embarrassment between them. In fact things couldn't have been any smoother and he was grateful for this. To be fair, they hadn't broached the topic again but he wasn't worried.

They weren't actually the type to sit around talking about their feelings all the time.

They'd just had a huge talk about talking more but he knew that Dean would definitely hurt him if he tried to do so all the time. He also knew that if he did need to, he could, judgment free. And that was what mattered.

He stretched distractedly. He was in the library re-reading that book on Mayan gods and sacrificial magics. He hadn't absorbed anything from it the first time he read it a few weeks ago. Something about the whole thing was setting him on edge, like an itch beneath his skin. He couldn't help feeling this vague sense of urgency buzzing beneath the surface.

The chair scrapped against the floor as his legs pushed against it. He balanced against the hind legs to further the stretch and get his circulation flowing again. He'd been sitting in the same position for hours and his muscles were stiff and protesting.

Pretty soon he'd have to get up to get a drink or something to eat. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch and it was already pushing 8pm. He was pretty sure Dean had told him there were leftovers in the fridge but he'd been too absorbed in what he was doing to pay attention at the time.

He looked at the books on the table again. There was the Mayan book, his notes and a journal from one of the Letter Men. The journal had actually sent him to the Mayan book. The Letter Man, Jonathan had referenced it specifically because it had highlighted the means to kill Mayan gods.

He was pretty sure there was a hunt in there, but he needed to do some more digging.

He picked up his notebook and went over his notes carefully. After a while, the familiarity of his writing caused his eyes to glaze over, allowing his mind to again return to Dean and last night. That had been happening a lot through out the day. Thinking about Dean.

For the twelve plus years that they rode together, he'd felt like he was holding Dean back. It was like everything he did was wrong. So much so that he couldn't understand how Dean could forgive him time and again. Because of this, he'd spent so much of his time trying to make up for his mistakes, trying to do anything that would prove that he was worthy of travelling with Dean.

He'd been so blinded by his crusade that he'd lied to Dean, kept things from him all the while convincing himself that he was doing it all because he had to. It was for Dean.

All along he'd been doing these things to compensate for his feelings of insecurity. When in fact, he never had to prove anything to Dean. He could see the truth of it in hindsight. He was operating under the idea that he was proving his worth but to his brother he'd never needed to do so.

Dean had changed his life so drastically with a few words spoken in the dark of his room.

Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention to his work again.

* * *

He heard movement in the hallway behind him seconds before Dean rounded the corner. He had his headphones hanging loosely around his neck as he strolled casually into the room. He was holding a plate in one hand and two beer bottles in the other. Nodding, he raised the two bottles slightly in greeting when he noticed that he had Sam's attention.

"Hey," he said as he placed the plate in front of Sam. It was Dean's patented grilled cheese and egg sandwich.

"Hey," Sam replied, picking up one of the triangles and taking a bite. "Thanks," he said around a mouthful.

Twisting the top off one of the bottles, Dean placed it in front of Sam. He sat down with a sigh, took a long swallow from the other bottle and lounged as comfortably as he could in the hard chair. All the while, Sam looked at him, saying nothing.

"What?" he asked crossing his legs up on the table. He turned away from Sam not expecting an answer and placed the headphones on his head.

Taking another bite out of his sandwich, Sam bowed his head and smiled. No matter what, Dean was always looking out for him. He went back to his books and not long after that, he absently noticed that the second piece of the sandwich was gone.

* * *

This was becoming a habit, Sam thought as Dean shook him awake. He'd fallen asleep at the desk while working.

"Hey," Dean croaked. He must have fallen asleep too.

Groaning at the pain in his back, Sam tried to pop his muscles back into place only to grin when he looked up at Dean. He had crease marks branded into his cheeks where he must have fallen asleep on his headphones.

Dean rubbed his neck sorely and muttered, "let's never do that again."

"Sure thing, old man," Sam said, standing up to stretch his limbs. Actually he agreed with Dean. Falling asleep at the table lost its appeal years ago but any chance to get one on his brother he would take.

"You're not far behind me. Keep laughing."

Sam made one of his faces. He figured Dean would know he was not amused from his expression.

Checking the time, he noticed that it was much closer to morning than it was to night and making a choice, he decided to stay up and continue working. He was even more sure now that he had a hunt and time was of the essence.

He said as much to Dean. "Suit yourself. I'm going to catch a couple more hours in an actual bed."

* * *

Sam spent most of that day researching. The more he looked into the things referenced in the Letter Man journal, the more sure he was that something was going on.

Off and on through out the day he would see his brother but generally Dean was more gone than he was present.

At regular periods food would appear in front of him and at one point Dean walked by him covered in blood and bits so he figured he was keeping himself busy. He simply raised an eyebrow and went back to what he was doing. It was best not to ask.

The day was starting to wind down when Dean took the seat across from him.

"What's going on Sam?" he asked seriously.

"I think I found us a case?"

"You said earlier but you don't sound sure." He rubbed a tired hand over his face.

"Oh I'm sure there is a case it's just that I'm not sure of... the timing?"

"Let me guess," Dean said wearily. "Another all-nighter?"

Sam made an apologetic face. And winced at the deep groan of resignation his brother let out.

"How can I help." Dean offered even though he looked like he was ready to drop.

"No. I almost got it. I just need to check a few things," already being pulled back to the documents in front of him.

Getting up, Dean gave him a look. "I'd keep you company man, but this chair is uncomfortable." He tilted his head consideringly. "And this room is freakin' cold. I don't know how you're dealing."

Pausing, Sam looked at him.

"Or you could finish up the rest of this," at that he gestured to the laptop and books on the table, "in the room. It's warm there and the couch is comfy."

As soon as Dean mentioned the cold, a chill sent goosebumps up and down Sam's body. It was cold in in the library, especially at night. It's just that he chose to ignore it.

If given an alternative though, he didn't have to think hard on it. If the options were to spend time with his brother or not, he'd always choose the former.

"Sure," he smiled and started gathering his things. Dean hid a look of relief as he helped him.

* * *

They were comfortable in the room. Dean was on his bed listening quietly to some movie and Sam was clacking away on his laptop, every now and then he'd move to one of the books spread out around him on the couch. They weren't really talking but the silence was companionable.

Sam never would have thought that the orange glow of the lamp could feel so warm and inviting. It cast soft light and shadows in the room, giving everything a slight glow.

Dean chuckled softly at something on his screen and that immediately stole Sam's focus. He sat back for a moment and really looked around. He knew that he was starting to associate this room with home.

When he'd first come to the bunker, he'd not been able to settled into it the way that Dean had. Sam had considered himself homeless for the majority of his life and although they were permanently moved into the bunker, to him it was just another building in a long line. He'd felt this way even recently.

He hadn't told his brother how he was feeling because to Dean, this place represented something he'd always wanted and he wanted Sam to feel the same way.

There wasn't a person on this planet who knew him better than Dean and yet he seemed to miss this pretty important thing. Sam had never considered any physical place home, maybe save the Impala. His home had always been with Dean.

It made sense then that this room would start to feel like home to him. It was the room his brother had claimed.

His mind came to attention when he felt eyes on him. He started slightly when he realized that he had been staring at his brother absently.

"Do I have something on my face?" he gestured to his entire head.

"No. I think I've figured it out," Sam deflected. He motioned for Dean to come near.

Pausing his video, Dean hopped off his bed as Sam made room for him.

"So I've been going through the Men of Letters books and cataloging them right?" At this Dean nodded. "Well," Sam continued, "I found a journal belonging to a man by the name of Jonathan Fisher. Fisher was kind of a rebel among the Letter Men. He didn't want to just observe. He thought that they should be out there helping people with the resources they had.

"He made enough noise about it that his superiors threatened to expel him if he went against their ways. The MOL were all about legacy so he couldn't afford to get expelled but his conscience wouldn't let him sit around doing nothing so he'd go through the unsolved cases, figure out how to fix the thing or kill the monster and he'd send one of his hunter friends to work it. Everything he documented is in this journal here." He picked it up to show Dean.

"He didn't solve all the cases of course," he took a quick breath of excitement as he got into it. "No. He may have figured out how to fix the problem but real life is never so simple. Some they were able to solve, some his friend couldn't find the monster, some they missed the opportunity and so on. The cursed object case you went one was one of his. They couldn't figure out where it was."

"I'm guessing you found another hunt that he couldn't 'figure out.'"

"Yea. So get this. He thought that there was some kind of Mayan God sacrificing people in El Paso, Texas. His notes showed a rash of missing persons. He tracked it back two cycles and he was pretty sure that it matched the same patterns as the Mayan god of love Yantho."

"How's he sure. Seems like a stretch. People go missing in big cities all the time."

"And that's what the police said at the time as well. The problem is that there was a Laelia orchid present at the last known location of several of the missing victims and according to the lore, when Yantho accepts a tribute he leaves a Laelia orchid to let others know that person was chosen," This he said triumphantly. "That's what tipped Jonathan to the case. Yantho has a twenty year sacrifice cycle." He picked up a book and opened it to a bookmarked section.

"On the twentieth year, twenty offerings would be made to Yantho. The worthy would receive Yantho's mark and the women would be given many seasons of fertility,"

Closing the book he opened up his laptop. "Jonathan sent his hunter friend but he couldn't figure out how the victims were being chosen or where Yantho was and the year passed."

"I'm getting the feeling that Jonathan's hunter buddy wasn't very good at his job. That cursed scissors was easy to find." Sighing Dean sat back on the couch, letting his head rest against the back. "Let me guess, the cycle is starting again."

"Jonathan wrote this in 1938. It's on a twenty year cycle, so yes. At first I thought that maybe he was reaching, you know, but I've been going through missing persons reports in El Paso since 1978, the earliest records I could find," he explained. |"And like clockwork, on the twentieth year, several missing persons' reports would mention a strange flower. Because the city is a border town and the flower is native to Mexico the police just attributed it to being an import. I'm guessing that many probably didn't even bother to note it in their reports."

"Why would they? They don't know what's really out there so they probably thought it was unimportant."

Sam snuck a glance at his brother and relaxed when he noticed that his eyes were closed. "Right."

"1978, so the time after that was 1998 and then now this year."

"There have been fifty seven people reported missing in El Paso over the past two months. Thirty four of them were found safely. Seven of them were not so lucky. Of the sixteen still unaccounted for, two of them had mentions of a strange flower in the reports. Henry Mason, college kid at UTEP and Isabella Louis, a receptionist. Different officers and both mentions of the strange flower were incidental. I's dotted and T's crossed kind of thing."

"So when do we leave?" Dean sat up, suddenly energized. He always got like that for the hunt.

"I'd say day after tomorrow? Still have some things to figure out."

"Texas huh?" Dean got up and grabbed his phone and laptop. "I'll find us a room."

Sam nodded as he went back to organizing his information. Their success hinged on the quality of his work and he prided himself on it. Closing the books, he dropped them gently on the floor and swang his long legs up so he could lay down on the couch. He propped the laptop onto his chest and went about sorting the documents into a workable order.

* * *

He woke up when he heard the door open. He hadn't even noticed that he'd fallen asleep. Lifting his legs, Dean took a seat at the foot of the couch. "Motel's booked. We can make it there for 5 or 6pm if we leave here at around 5am day after tomorrow."

Sam hummed his acknowledgement as he rubbed his face into the pillow tiredly. It smelled like Dean a little, he thought.

"Sorry. I'm a little tired. Your couch is way too comfortable." He made a move to get up but Dean stopped him.

"Then sleep. We can harsh out the details tomorrow."

"Okay," Sam sighed.

"Now get your giant paws off me," he said. Despite his words, he patted Sam's legs gently before raising them so he could get up.

"Good night Sasquatch."

"Night Dean."


	6. On The Road So Far

The story is going to focus on the case for a couple of chapters. I promise it's necessary to get to the [E] rating. Let me know what you think.

Road So Far - Supernatural Musical (Fan Fiction

* * *

It was early morning and the boys were in the kitchen having a simple breakfast. Sam's papers and books were scattered all around them in organized chaos.

"There are no connections between the two victims that I can see," Sam said taking an absent spoonful of his corn flakes. "One was a college kid and the other a receptionist. From what I could tell, they didn't frequent the same places. I doubt they ever even crossed paths."

"Hmm," Dean hummed.

"Luckily we won't have to wait for more victims to build a pattern. It might be a little more difficult but I think that if we can get some clues from friends and family of the victims twenty years ago maybe we can build a profile." He distractedly scratched a hand through his slightly tangled hair. He loved this part because he got a thrill from figuring out the puzzle, but he also hated it because it was time consuming and mentally draining.

"What do we know about where our two victims were grabbed?"

"The last time anyone saw the kid was on his way home from some party and Isabella left work and never made it home. Her fiance reported her missing pretty early," he picked up a paper to verify his facts. "A Luke Jacobson. Apparently she'd called him half an hour before her shift ended and told him she was coming straight home."

"And the kid?" Dean asked sipping his coffee tiredly. His voice was still gravelly from sleep, although that could just be his normal register. His voice had been dipping constantly for years now. Sam was sure that at this rate, by the time they were fifty he'd not be able to understand a word his brother said.

"No one noticed he was missing until the following night. His parents came to his dorm for a surprised visit but the roommate hadn't seen him all day and he hadn't been to any of his classes. Apparently this was worrying enough that they called the police. Kid was a scholarship student and a workaholic."

"How does the flower come into play in this?" Dean wondered.

"The flower was found in Henry's dorm room and in Isabella's car." Sam paused for a moment. "He was the same age as I was when you came to get me. Twenty two year old kid. At least I knew what was out there."

"We'll find him. Both of them," Dean assured. He wasn't sure if he'd find them alive but for sure they were going to solve this case. They couldn't not. "Come on," he said suddenly. They'd both sunk into a funk and Sam was pulling his lost puppy face again. "What are we up against? Tell me about the monster."

Sam reached for the Mayan book and opened it in front of him to a bookmarked page. "Says here that Yantho is the god of love. Unlike most cultures' myths about love gods, the Mayans' were a little more deadly. Twenty persons would be sacrificed to ensure twenty years of fertility. It doesn't say how the victims were chosen or how they were sacrificed. We do know that according to their lore, by the end of the year, the twenty victims would have been chosen. Luckily for us the Mayan year is the same length as the Gregorian calendar year so we still have time."

"How do we kill it?" Dean got up and poured himself more coffee. He topped up Sam's as well as it was running low.

"Thanks," Sam looked up briefly before going back to his notes. He took a quick sip of coffee and continued. "This god is easier than most. A gold blade to the heart. At least that's how a few of the other gods were killed. It mentions the citizens rising up against some of the gods and killing them with crude blades made out of gold. For all we know any sharp object will do it—"

"But it's better to use confirmed kill methods," Dean continued. "Well apart from finding the thing, this should be an easy hunt. What's our cover?"

"I was thinking FBI looking into a possible kidnapping ring? Maybe we were sent to see if fresh eyes can figure out why so many people go missing in El Paso and if its connected to other cases around the country. It'll give us the chance to look at the other missing persons reports and maybe find another victim of Yantho or at least a pattern."

"Page and Plant?" Dean asked. When Sam nodded, he got up, all ready to take action. He took both their bowls and giving them a quick rinse, left them in the sink. "I'm going to pack and take Baby into town for a full detailing. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone or what'll happen so I want to make sure she's ready for anything."

"Hey," Sam called. Dean was already almost out of the room. "Leave a few sets of suits out. I'll wash and iron them with mine."

"Alright. Be back in a few hours," and he was gone. Only to have his head pop back in a second later. "Don't forget to call Garth."

Finishing his coffee, Sam waved him off. They always called Garth with a brief version of their case so that he could have their backs if their FBI cover was blown or if they needed backup. The little guy was surprisingly efficient at managing the unruly hunters.

Sam got up from his seat to put his mug in the sink and decided to wash the bowls Dean had left there. He knew that Dean would do it when he came back but it wouldn't take him any time. Grabbing his seat again, he went about divvying up the list of witnesses so they could get to work as soon as they got there.

In the corner of his eye he noticed his brother's mug on the table, full and piping hot. Dean must have been so in a hurry to start that he forgot about the cup he'd poured. Sam smiled to himself and pulled the mug closer to him. Going back to his task, he took a sip from the steaming cup. He could swear that it tasted better than the one he'd had.

* * *

The day went by fast. The day before they left for a hunt always went by fast. They had so many things to do to make sure that they were ready and after so many years of it, they had it down to a science.

Dean came back later in the day after getting the car ready. He then got their weapons out and started to inventory the things that they would need. When it came to their survival, Dean was a man of focus. He would become absorbed in the task of sharpening their blades and cleaning out their guns and without fail, every night before they left for a hunt, he'd pull them out on the table and work them for hours.

It was so familiar to him that he could do it without looking, muscle memory. His ritual.

Sam knew not to try to help. It's not that he couldn't clean and calibrate a gun or sharpen a blade. It's that Dean needed to know with certainty that every single weapon in his arsenal had been inspected and verified by him or he would be distracted on the hunt, so Sam let him and trusted the quality of their weapons to him.

He made them burgers for dinner while Dean worked on the weapons and they hashed out the finer details of their cover story and the plan.

That night, for the first time in days, Sam went to sleep in his room. He was anxious the entire time that he'd have another nightmare but he couldn't keep hijacking his brother's room indefinitely. He might wear out his welcome.

Despite his concerns, he was able to fall asleep easily enough and before he knew it, Dean was knocking on his door.

* * *

"Hey Sam. Get a move on," Dean banged on his door. Groaning, Sam blindly reached for his phone. 3:56am. Four minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. Groaning again, he sat at the edge of the bed, and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Dean banged on his door again after a moment. "I'm up!" he yelled, seconds before his alarm went off. Turning off the annoying screeching, he counted to five and hoisted his large frame up. He flicked the light switch and looked around the room, lost for a moment. Clearly he wasn't firing on all cylinders. Absently he scratched his stomach before picking up his bags and walking out the door.

Bypassing the kitchen, he brought his bags to the bottom of the stairs in the war room. He wasn't surprised to see Dean's already there. He placed his right next to his brother's and went in search of sustenance.

Knowing Dean, he'd have them out the door by 5am and they would drive for a while without stopping so his first goal was to get something in his stomach. He padded tiredly into the kitchen and wasn't surprised to see a simple sandwich and a cup of coffee already waiting there for him.

He sat down to eat. Dean was probably in the shower already. No matter what he said about himself, Dean was remarkably efficient. He was always prepared and didn't leave anything to chance.

Sam savored the first bite of his sandwich. There was a fluffy egg omelette, bacon, sharp cheddar, tomato and lettuce. Sam's favorite.

It occurred to him as he ate his breakfast that he felt good – rested. He'd spent the night alone in his room without a single nightmare. Maybe he was cured finally and he could rest easy.

Rushing through the rest of the sandwich, Sam got up, washed his dishes and hurried back to his room. He didn't have time to be sitting around.

Before long he'd groomed, showered and dressed, opting for comfortable flannel and worn jeans. He'd be sitting all day so he might as well be as comfortable as possible. Throwing on a jacket to combat the winter weather, he turned off the night lamp and left the room.

Dean was already waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. "Ready?" he asked Sam.

"As I'll ever be."

"Good," Dean said, bending over to pick up some of the assorted bags and heading up the stairs. Grabbing the remaining bags, Sam followed him. They turned off the lights at the top of the stairs and walked the short hallway leading out.

Baby was already packed in front of the entrance. They piled their bags in the back before climbing in and taking off down the long dirt road.

* * *

They'd been driving for about three hours now. Sam was silently going over the case again to make sure that he didn't miss anything and Dean was humming along to some classic rock, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

After a moment, "Aren't you tired of going over that thing Sam? It's not going to change you know."

"Yea... but I just don't wanna miss anything."

They were silent for a few minutes when Dean rejoined. "Why is this bugging you so much?"

Closing his notes for a second, Sam stared out at the moving scenery. "It feels evil."

"It's a monster Sam. Of course it's evil."

"That's not what I mean though. Okay so we chase these monsters around the country right? And I get that they kill people but they operate a certain way. Ghosts seek revenge, werewolves and vampires are driven by their impulses for hearts or blood. But this just feels wrong somehow. Sacrificing people just seems so barbaric. I don't know. The whole thing just seems... malevolent. We have to stop it."

He reopened his book and lapsed into silence.

* * *

Sam lifted his head when he felt the car start to slow down. They'd stopped a few hours back for some lunch and were making good time so he was confused for a moment until Dean said, "Speed trap ahead."

Sam nodded. It would suck if they got pulled over for any reason. Their car was filled with enough weapons to get them thrown away for life. They silently toed the line down the road for a few minutes. Not far ahead they noticed the flashing lights of a state trooper's cruiser. As they drove by, they saw that a Mercedes Benz had been pulled over and was being ticketed. Dean, being the big child that he was laughed obnoxiously for several minutes.

"Serves him right for driving a Nazi car."

"Wha-" Sam spluttered unbelievably. "Dude you can't say that!"

"Of course I can. I know Nazi when I see it. I am an expert. After all," Sam could feel his annoyance rising. He knew what was coming. "I killed Hitler."

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. Years later and Dean was still reminding him. It's like he would look for any excuse to remind anyone who would listen.

After all these years, Sam had learned that it was best to not engage him or he'd be hearing the dreaded phrase for days on end. So saying nothing, he ignored the shit eating grin on his brother's face and opened his laptop.

* * *

"You should watch it with me Sam," Dean was saying, eyes casually taking in the sweeping landscape. "I mean they talk a lot about forensics and science but there's a lot of action scenes. You have a thing for serial killers right?"

"I don't have a thing for serial killers Dean." It was clear that he had said those words many times before from the tone of his voice. "I just think that it's interesting." He didn't know how he could explain his fascination any better to Dean and really he'd given up. He suspected that Dean understood but just enjoyed bugging him anyway.

"Well you'd like this. I'm telling you man. The female lead is this take no shit bombshell. All fiery and serious and she can kick some serious ass. I'd like to have one night with her," his eyes glazed over for a moment, making Sam feel uncomfortable.

"Gross Dean. You don't have to objectify her like that you know."

"Relax dude," Dean said, slapping him on the chest. "You know I don't mean anything by it. I'm sure she has a nice personality."

"Sure," Sam mumbled, resting his head against his side of the car. The sun was setting in the sky and if they continued at the rate they were travelling, they'd make it to their destination in a few hours. He'd done all the preparation that he could at this point. All that was left was to get to it.

The interior of the car was silent for a while save for the music playing softly around them.

* * *

"Did you have any nightmares last night," Dean asked at some point.

Sam sat up and shook his head softly. "No. I didn't," he whispered into the darkness of the car. "But it was just one night so, who knows..." he trailed off.

"You're worried you might have more?"

"I'm not sure," he murmured. "I know that the nightmares came from my fear that something would happen to you because we kept things from each other. I also have this irrational feeling that if I look away for a moment, you might... disappear." He mumbled the last part, afraid to share it for fear of the repercussions. "Since we talked I haven't had any nightmares but," there he paused for a moment. "I keep waiting for them to come and that keeps me on edge. Combine that with the fact that I think I need to know you're still here, it keeps me tense and anxious before sleeping." He hoped he was making sense. He didn't know how to tell Dean that hearing him breathe in his sleep was the best sleeping drug he could ask for so he didn't say anything else.

Dean was quiet for a few minutes. So long that Sam thought the conversation was over until Dean said, "You can always share my room anytime you want."

Sam turned to look at him in surprise.

"But we will have to trade on the bed or my memory foam might forget me."

Caught off guard, Sam let out a burst of laughter."You're an idiot." Secretly he was relieved at the open invitation.

* * *

They reached their motel room around the time that Dean had predicted. Trudging into the room with all their stuff, Sam immediately dropped off onto the bed furthest into the room. Dean always took the bed closer to the door.

He groaned tiredly. After so many years, he still felt the ache of a long drive. He rolled over onto his back lazily to see Dean giving him the most judging look possible.

"What?" he said. "I'm tired," he defended.

"Okay, princess," Dean teased as he walked to the bathroom. Sitting up, Sam looked around their room. It was painted a lime green pastel color and was smaller than usual with barely any room between the beds and even less room to the door. There was a small table with two chairs and a mini fridge.

'Eh, they'd stayed in worse,' he thought. Getting up, he rooted through one of his bags looking for a toothbrush. The bathroom door was open so he knew Dean wasn't doing anything private. He walked in and found his brother already brushing his teeth.

Giving his back to Dean, he quickly peed and washed his hand. He picked up the toothpaste just as his brother was rinsing out his mouth and the brush. Smiling at him through the mirror, Dean patted his back on the way out.

He brushed his teeth while thinking about their plans for tomorrow. He'd have a lot of work to do. He was kind of excited. What truths would he uncover?

Rinsing his mouth when he was done, he decided to take a shower. Knowing Dean, he'd want to go out tonight as it wasn't late and Sam wanted to wash the drive off him before he went out into public again.

Closing the door, he got undressed and turned on the shower. He could hear his brother moving about in the other room. The bed squeaked, Dean probably sat on it.

When steam started to rise, he pulled the cheap plastic curtain back and stepped into the water. He knew he wouldn't have long before the water turned cold.

* * *

They discussed their plans one last time after Sam stepped out of the shower and as he predicted, Dean dragged him out in search of a bar. Luckily they didn't have far to go. It was like Dean had a homing beacon for that kind of place because they found a dive not a block away from their motel.

Sam suspected that Dean chose their motel because of its proximity to the bar. Shrugging, he walked into the dimly lit building with Dean, if only to make sure he didn't over do it.

* * *

Let me know what you think of the story so far in a comment!


	7. With You (I'm Alive)

They were on their way to the El Paso Police Department where Detective Manuel Arias worked. He was the investigating detective working Isabella Louis' case. Dean was going over their cover again as he drove across the city. They'd done this thousands of times but still Dean always took it incredibly seriously. He treated it like it was the first time.

Sam dutifully repeated their story back to Dean because he knew it was important him. He knew that they'd already gone over it when they arrived last night and again while they were having a few drinks at that bar, but this was what made their solve rate on cases so high – Dean's attention to detail.

His mind wandered back to last night. The two of them had found a quiet seat in that bar and just talked and had a few drinks. They didn't talk about anything major. They discussed the case and let their conversation flow randomly. It had felt good. Maybe they could do it again when this case was over.

Most times Dean was out to get laid so he was barely present. It was nice to have his attention for a change.

* * *

Parking the Impala on the street, they walked into the station. "State your business," The officer at the desk greeted them with barely any emotion or inflection. In sync, they pulled out their fake badges and held it up so he could see.

"Agents Plant and Page, FBI," Dean said confidently. He watched as the previously bored officer stood up straighter.

"What can I do for Uncle Sam?"

"We're looking into the disappearance of Isabella Louis. I believe that Detective Arias was the investigating officer?" Sam joined.

"The FBI is interested in the disappearance of one woman? Don't the guys in Washington have more important things to do?"

"We are not at liberty to discuss the details of our investigation," Sam answered in an abrupt manner. Immediately the officer's hackles went up and he looked like he would like nothing more than to stone wall them. Sometimes Sam forgot that they weren't actually FBI agents. Dean gave him a look that said rein in the douche and turned to the officer.

"Look," he quickly glanced at the nameplate. "Officer Evans. We just go where they send us. I got a boss like you and I don't ask questions." He hoped to get the officer back on their side. He sighed mentally when the man relaxed again. Looking over his shoulders, he called out to a large Hispanic man in a suit. "That's Detective Arias. He'll help you."

* * *

They spent over two hours going over the details of Isabella's disappearance and the few other cases that had landed in that station. Dean was relentless. He wouldn't let any details go and seeing how driven he was, Detective Arias did everything in his power to help.

They exited the station with a more complete story. Isabella was days away from her wedding when she was captured. At first the detective had thought she might be a runaway bride but there was evidence of force in and around her car. He firmly believed that she was taken against her will. Unfortunately the trail ended not far from the scene and the police had nothing to go on.

Sam and Dean walked briskly to the Impala parked on the street. Their next stop was Isabella's fiance. The plan was to visit the two most recent victims together and divide the other victims between them to tackle over the next several days.

"So? What do you think?" Dean asked, the Impala roaring aggressively as it took off down the road.

"I don't know." He looked out the window and lapsed into silence. Maybe if the police knew about what was really going on in their city they might have found a clue, they would have otherwise dismissed.

* * *

They pulled up in front of Luke Jacobson's house, and got out of the car. Together they walked up the path leading to the porch. The intricate stonework that made the path was being slowly reclaimed by nature. In unison, they climbed the stairs and Dean knocked on the door.

Standing slightly behind his brother, Sam made a face of distaste as he saw the state of Mr Jacobson's porch. The mail box was filled with flyers and letters and there were several unclaimed newspapers just lying in disarray. The floor was covered in dust and leaves and some of those weeds were starting to take the porch too. It was a pretty nice neighborhood. He was surprised no one had said anything.

After waiting a few moments, they knocked again. Dean tried to discreetly peak into the windows but everything was blocked out by the curtains. Still no answer. They gave each other a look and making sure their surroundings were clear, Sam pulled out his lock pick. Using Dean as a shield, he picked the lock and pushed the door open.

Immediately they were assaulted with the horrible odor of a dead body. Using their jacket to cover their faces, they entered the home.

"Damn it," Dean said angrily. Luke Jacobson was sitting in a chair in what appeared to be a living room. Pills and and their bottle scattered haphazardly on the floor around him, vomit stains on his face and clothes.

He'd been dead for a while. He looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Sam was already calling 911 as Dean looked around the room for clues.

* * *

They unlocked their motel room tiredly. "Well that was a shit show," Dean said in frustration, pulling his tie off. Sam was already grabbing a towel and heading to the bathroom. He could still smell the dead funk on him.

"Tell me about it."

He shut the bathroom door on his brother's protesting face. Dean knew the rules. Little brothers always got first showers. Shedding his clothes on the floor carelessly, Sam stepped into the shower before the water even had a chance to warm up. He just wanted the stench gone. Bending so he could get his head under shower-head, he let the water wash the day off him.

After calling the police, they'd exited the home, re-locked the door and stood waiting by the Impala. Not long after, the sirens could be heard as emergency first responders arrived, Detective Arias among them. As Luke Jacobson was wheeled out of his house in a body bag, they'd given their statement, adjusted in their favor.

They'd gone to Mr Jacobson's house to conduct an interview and noticed the smell through the door and immediately called 911. This, Sam said in his sympathetic, "trust me. I'm harmless" voice.

They were at the crime scene all day helping Detective Arias with his investigation at his request. Apparently their attention to detail earlier that day really struck a cord with him and he was looking at Dean like he knew everything, nodding seriously at anything he said. Sam secretly thought that maybe Detective Arias might want to be an FBI agent himself.

It was clear that Mr Jacobson had committed suicide. But having unfettered access to the crime scene – legally, they searched the house thoroughly. He didn't leave a note, his fridge was full. It hadn't appeared that he'd left the house in a while. It was like he just stopped caring. The underlying cause seemed to be his missing fiance.

"Think we'll have better luck tomorrow?" Dean asked, causing Sam to jump as water pelted his hard body. Pulling the curtains back so he could yell at his brother for entering the bathroom when the door was closed, he paused. Dean was not in the bathroom. In fact the door was still firmly shut. Talk about thin walls. He could have sworn Dean was right there.

"We better. For the victim's sake," he said softly, assuming Dean would hear him.

"Yea," Dean agreed. "Alright we'll tackle the kid's parents and then circle back to Jacobson's to work on his neighbors. Now hurry up in there. I can taste dead in my mouth."

* * *

One theme was recurring no matter who they talked to. The victim was deeply loved. When they visited the Masons' hotel, Mr. Mason quietly let them in. His wife was so distraught that she was bed ridden.

They had a difficult time having a child. After losing hope, success came at a time when it should have been impossible. He was their miracle child and his mother doted on him. Mr. Mason was scared of what would happen if their son wasn't found alive.

Giving him their cards, they asked him to call if he thought of anything new. The boys left the Masons' with a growing sense of dread which did not lessen after talking to several of Alex Jacobson's neighbors.

One of them, a Susie Lambert, claimed to be Isabella's best friend and she was very chatty. She told them of the epic love between Luke and Isabella. How they had fallen in love and were just days away from their Caribbean wedding.

Laughing through tears, she told them how Isabella had been terrified because both she and Luke had to get vaccinated for their trip but Isabella had a deathly, paralyzing fear of needles. She loved Luke so much that she had willingly faced that fear. They both remembered briefly seeing two immunization reports lying on the dresser in Jacobson's room. They nodded.

Friends and family of victims always wanted to share stories about the victim so they both listened sympathetically.

She told them about her last conversation with Luke. He had said that he felt in his heart that Isabella was dead. It didn't surprise her that Luke would want to be with his fiance. They were soulmates after all. Her only regret was that she hadn't thought to get him help. The signs were there and now he was also gone.

They went back to their motel as the sun was setting. Both were in a somber mood and Sam immediately pulled out his laptop. He wanted to go through the list of Laelia victims twenty years ago. He had a hunch that he needed to verify. He needed to see if anyone close to the victim ended up in a similar state to Mrs. Mason or Luke Jacobson.

All monsters had patterns they followed. They always picked their victims because they met some specific criteria. For werewolves, that was having a human heart. For vampires, human blood. Those Christmas deities they fought years ago picked their victims based on who had the Meadowsweet hanging in their home. The same rules would apply to this monster.

This case was becoming more serious than they had originally predicted. The original twenty victims was turning into a bigger list. The others may not have been kidnapped along with the victims but they were casualties nonetheless.

Using that as a guideline, Sam started to sieve through the missing persons reports. They needed to find the pattern.

"I need a beer," Dean said, drained. "You coming?"

Sam waved him off, "No go ahead." He had work to do. Where before their confirmed list of victims twenty years ago had been meager, he was now sure that he would be able to find more.

About ten minutes later, the door opened to reveal Dean holding a case of beer. Plopping the case down by the table, he grabbed his laptop and sat opposite Sam. He grabbed two bottles, placed one near Sam and opened one. Taking a long gulp from his bottle, he gave Sam an expectant look. "So what are we looking for?"

"I thought you were going to the bar," Sam said instead of answering.

"And leave you with all the fun? So?" he asked again.

Shrugging, Sam emailed him a list. "Alright so I've emailed you half the list of missing victims that were never found during the cycle twenty years ago. Some of them had the Laelia flower mentioned in their reports, but most didn't. We're looking to see if anything similar to the Masons or Jacobson happened to someone close to them after they went missing. It won't guarantee that that person was chosen by Yantho but it will give us a bigger list of witnesses and possible victims–"

"And we can easier find a pattern," Dean finished. "Sammy you're a genius." Sam blushed and bowed his head to hide it.

* * *

The next day, they split up. The list was too big to efficiently tackle together. Dean dropped Sam off at a car rental place and they agreed to regroup later in the day to compare notes.

It was a grueling task but after talking to several persons who knew victims from twenty years ago, Dean finally had a breakthrough, but he had to verify one thing that would cinch it for him.

Knocking on the door of the Masons, he wasn't surprised that the father answered looking even more worn down.

"Agent Plant?" He asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry to bother you, I just have one question for you."

Deflating slightly, he invited Dean in and waited. He was slowly losing hope. More and more he was waiting for an officer to come knocking on his door to tell him they found his son's body.

"Did your son happen to visit a hospital or medical center recently?"

"Yes, about two months ago. He broke his arm around Christmas doing stupid stuff with his friends. His mom and I drove him to Providence Memorial Hospital ourselves. She was so upset, crying and babying him even though he kept telling her he was fine."

Nodding, Dean said, "That's all I needed. Thank you for your time," and made for the door.

"Wait!" Mr Mason called. "What does the hospital have to do with my son?"

"Probably nothing, I just want to make sure that no stone is left unturned," and he exited their hotel room.

It was just as he thought. That hospital was somehow involved. Several of the victims twenty years ago had visited there in the time leading up to their disappearance. Isabella also got her vaccinations there and Henry got his cast.

Getting into the Impala, he headed to the hospital.

* * *

Heading outside the latest witness' house, Sam sighed in frustration. They weren't giving him anything. He got inside his rental and checked his phone. He had an assortment of texts from hunters and friends and one missed call from Dean a little over an hour ago. Clicking the voice mail icon, he listened to the message, the icy grip of panic slowly crawling up his spine.

"Sam," Dean's familiar voice whispered urgently over the speaker. "Found something. Can't talk. Text you." He'd just looked at his messages. He didn't have a message from Dean.

Feeling panic try to take a hold of him, he quickly flipped back to his text messages to double check. His last message from Dean was when he'd been on the cursed object case. Going to his contact list, he clicked the call button next to his brother's name. The call went straight to voicemail.

The phone dropped into his lap from his numb fingers as the world seemed to close in around him and pressure built up in his skull. Dean would never wait this long to call him unless something was wrong. His nightmare was coming true. Dean had disappeared.


	8. Brother, Caught in a Crossfire

Mustering his resolve, Sam pulled himself together. He couldn't let himself be consumed with panic. Every second was precious and could cost Dean his life.

For all he knew, he could be panicking for nothing. Maybe Dean was alright and just forgot to text. It wasn't like him to forget but everyone slipped up now and then.

Picking up the phone, he checked his messages again just to make sure he hadn't missed a new one. Nothing had changed. He clicked the call icon next to Dean's name and again the call went straight to voice mail. His mind and heart were racing and the physiological symptoms of panic were preventing him from fully concentrating.

Stopping everything, he put the phone down, closed his eyes and took several long inhales in before holding and letting them out again. He did this several times until his racing heart started to slow.

Now think. If this were any other missing person. What would you do to find them?

Opening his laptop, he logged into the Arc Mobile Network and turned on Dean's GPS. He waited patiently for the circle to get smaller but it kept ping ponging across the map, expanding and decreasing.

Hitting his head against the headrest, he ran an impatient hand through his hair, gripping tight as he closed his eyes again. The slight pain helped him focus on the present. He was trying to think but all his mind wanted to do was give in to the panic.

The laptop made a sound and he immediately lifted his head to see what it was indicating. He let out a sound of triumph as it finally pinpointed Dean's phone. Copying the location into his phone, he turned on his navigation app and pulled away from the curb a little faster than was probably safe.

* * *

It took over an hour to drive through the rush hour traffic and navigate his way to the outskirts of the city. The further he went, the more desert-like his surroundings became. He reached as far as he could by car but the map was still suggesting further so he parked his vehicle and began his trek through the rocky terrain before him. It appeared that he would have to go about half a mile.

When he finally reached his destination, it took him a while of searching to find the phone, hidden as it were under a pile of rocks. It looked like it'd been thrown.

He had already known Dean wouldn't be there because there was nothing around for as far as the eye could see. This meant that someone had purposely come out there to dump the phone. Any lingering doubts he may have had that his brother was taken were gone. This act was deliberate, which also meant that Dean would be as far away from here as was possible.

He made a sound of desperation, planning to chuck the phone as far away as he could. He was no closer to finding Dean and the trail was getting cold. In an abortive move, he changed his mind at the last second. Cradling the phone to his chest, he sighed tiredly and started the trek back to his car, tripping over loose rocks on the way.

He sat in the car again and placed the phone in the glove compartment.

"So what now?" he asked no one in particular. The only thing he could do was try to retrace Dean's steps. The problem was that the list he'd given Dean had over forty names on it and he didn't know where on the list his brother had started or how he picked the witnesses he was going to interview. He also didn't know what Dean had found or how he came about this clue.

Did he start at the top of the list? The bottom? Was he going in the order the names appeared? Did he start with the closest witness? Did he pick witnesses based on their proximity to each other for a more efficient drive or did he pick them based on their relation to victims?

When this was over they would definitely have to re-think how they did things. He refused to allow himself the thought that he'd never see Dean again.

By the time he made it back to the motel, it was already dark. He would have to start his search in the morning. A feeling of impotent anger and frustration traveled through him. He was losing precious time. Clenching his shaking hands into fists for a moment, he took another calming breath and entered their motel room.

One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. He pulled out a copy of Dean's list and spent the night trying to come up with a pattern to Dean's method. He knew Dean better than anyone else in the world. If there was ever a time for that to be useful, this was it.

* * *

It had been three days now. Three days since he'd lost Dean and Sam could feel hopelessness trying to set in. He didn't know what to do.

He spent the first two sleepless nights pushing himself tirelessly, constantly worried and unable to eat before he crashed, quite literally. He'd stood up to get something from his bag, last night when his vision dipped alarmingly and his balance tilted sending him to the floor in a twist of limbs.

Giving in, he let himself rest for a couple of hours before he planned to start all over again. He barely had four hours of sleep before he woke up shaking and perspiring from a vicious nightmare. The echoes of it mirroring his reality. Dean was gone. There was no relief in sleep or in wake. He just had to work harder to find him.

* * *

Save one old lady, none of the witnesses he'd spoken to over the last day and some since he started his search, had seen his brother and the woman couldn't remember what they talked about. He'd only managed to connect with twelve persons on the list. Some were at work or just not at home when he got there. It was like everything was conspiring against him.

The eleven others he did connect with, he tried interviewing them anyway to see if he could find the same pattern as his brother but maybe his heart wasn't in it because they weren't really giving him anything that could remotely be considered useful.

He found himself sitting in the car going over the list again trying to find a pattern.

Suddenly the guitar riff that was Dean's ring tone started to go off, somewhat mutely in the glove compartment. The sound doubled when he opened it up. Clearing his throat, he clicked answer. "Agent Page."

"Oh hello Agent Page. I thought I was calling Agent Plant," the male voice said confused.

"This is Agent Plant's number, may I ask who is calling," he asked abruptly.

"How rude of me. This is Tim. Tim Mason. Your partner visited me three days ago and it's been bothering me. He asked about the Providence Memorial Hospital in regards to my son. I just want to know if he found any more news."

A feeling of hope bloomed tentatively within him. A breakthrough, finally. It had to be the missing piece.

"The investigation is still ongoing. I assure you, you will be the first to know as soon as information becomes available."

After a few more words, he hang up and drove back to his motel room. He broke into the hospital's database and painstakingly went through several files looking for each Laelia victim and discovered that every single one of them had at some point before their disappearance visited the Providence Memorial Hospital, now called Memorial Campus.

Grabbing his jacket, he left the motel room. If Dean had gone to the hospital then someone had to have seen him.

* * *

Walking up to the in-take desk, he flashed his badge at the attendee.

"What can I do for you agent?" The young man said.

"I was hoping to speak to whoever was on shift three nights ago." He asked with as much authority as he could infuse into his voice.

Before the male nurse could reply, his colleague answered. "We both were. We work three twelve hour shifts 12pm-12am. One night off and then repeat."

"Great." He said unable to hide the relief in his voice. "Did you happen to see this man?" He showed them a picture of Dean. "He would have been here maybe about 4:30 to 5pm?"

Taking the picture, the male nurse looked closely at it. "No... he doesn't look familiar to me," he shrugged and made to hand the picture back but his colleague grabbed it from his hand.

"Wait Brady. Don't you remember? He spoke to us about the attending physician for a patient. Lucy was falling all over herself trying to help him," she added helpfully.

"Oh. Right. Now that you mention it, I do remember him," he turned to Sam. "Sorry about that. So many people come in here it's hard to remember all their faces sometimes. If I remember correctly he wanted to see Dr... Turner." He went through his files. "Unfortunately Dr. Turner is not in right now."

"When are they working next?"

"In two days time. Do you want to make an appointment?" He asked helpfully.

"No that's alright." He'd just find this Dr. Turner's home and get them to tell him what his brother wanted. "Thank you for your co-operation." Things were looking up. He didn't have time to waste. He still had the hospital database files open. He'd find the doctor's home address there.

Nodding, Brady stepped away from the main desk.

As Sam was turning to leave, he noticed the frown on the chatty colleague's face. She was eyeing Brady's retreating back with this confused look. Pausing, Sam turned back to her. "Hi," looking at her name tag he said, "Susan. Hi Susan. Is there anything your co-worker missed?"

Walking over to him she gave him a look. "He's usually really good with names and faces and details. I don't know how he got it wrong but the other agent did not speak to Dr Turner. He asked to speak to Dr. Holland and she's in right now."

Sam's warning bells were going off. It seemed that nurse Brady was deliberately trying to mislead him. "It's an easy mistake to make," he excused kindly. "Can you tell me where Dr. Holland is right now?"

Susan gave him directions and thanking her, he briskly walked down the hall, following the arrows on the floor.

Turning another of many corners, he quickly flattened himself against the wall as he saw Brady being pulled into a room by the forearm. The angry woman in scrubs and a lab coat whispering urgent words before closing the door on the two of them. Something was definitely off there.

Sneaking closer to the room, he listened at the door.

"-tell him about me did you?" She whisper-yelled.

"No I told him it was Dr. Turner and he left. I'm not stupid you know," he said in a petulant voice.

"Sometimes I wonder. Now head over to Three Woods and get those bodies out of there. I'm trusting you Brady. Don't mess this up," she said turning to leave the room.

Sam quickly rushed back to hide behind the corner he had just turned. He could hear her heels clacking away down the hall. Peeking around the corner, he looked to see if he could find Brady but he hadn't left the room with the doctor.

Rushing to the room, he saw that it was empty and there were two other possible exits. Making a rash decision, he picked one hoping it was the right one. He quickly made several turns without any luck. Brady was gone.

"Damnit!" he swore, startling two nurses walking down the hall.

Following the arrows, he found his way to another exit at the other side of the building. Brady was gone but he knew where he would be. Walking briskly around the building to find his car, he turned another corner and stopped when he saw the Impala parked in the secondary visitor's parking.

He couldn't believe it. Walking up to it he opened it with his set of keys. He could actually see his rental while standing besides Baby. He grabbed his laptop, the phones and bag of weapons from the borrowed car and brought them all to the Impala.

Baby would want to be there to save Dean.

He quickly did a search for Three Woods and got nothing. If it did not exist on the internet how was he supposed to find it?

It must be a local nickname for something people didn't use anymore. Pulling out his phone, he grabbed the business card on the dash and made a call.

"Detective Arias. Yes. This is Agent Page. I need your help with something," he said. Immediately the other man was on alert.

"No, I have a quick question. Have you ever heard of Three Woods," he asked hopefully.

"You have! Great. Can you tell me what you know." It seemed that he would get closer to Dean with the detective's help but Arias wasn't a detective for nothing. He was already asking questions.

"Yes it has to do with the case. I don't have time to explain. Just tell me what you know." He was getting impatient. He knew the detective was a good man who loved his job but he didn't have time for this. Arias wanted to know if it was urgent enough to need police assistance.

"No. I don't need any he-" Save him from heroes. This was possibly going to be a monster fight. He didn't need civilians caught in the crossfire. Arias was a stubborn man. He wouldn't give him the information if Sam didn't tell him what was going on.

He sighed. "Fine. My partner's missing and I believe that it has something to do with Three Woods. Now tell me-" Cutting him off, the detective insisted that he would go with him as backup since Sam didn't want police assistance.

"No. I don't have time to wait. Can you just tell me." The detective then threatened to head over to Three Woods without him.

In annoyance, Sam gave up his location. "I'm in the parking lot at Memorial Campus. Hurry."

"Five minutes. Look for a black 67 Chevy Impala." Sam didn't have time for this but it seemed like he also didn't have a choice. Detective Hardass held all the cards.

* * *

A sharp rap on the passenger side window let him know the detective had arrived. The large man opened the door and slid into the seat. He plopped his phone on the dash, the Navigation voice already already giving instructions.

"Follow those directions." The words weren't even out of his mouth before Sam was already pealing out of the parking lot.

"Fill me in," the detective said.

"We were looking into victims who had mentions of the Laelia flower-"

"Wait that strange flower was your lead?" he interrupted, incredibly. "I wasn't even going to include it in my report."

"We believed that some people in your city were being kidnapped and those flowers were the kidnappers calling card. Unfortunately like you said, not every officer mentioned it in their reports but we noticed that there were several reports with mentions of it so my brother and I thought we'd interview friends and family of the victims to see if there was a pattern on how the victims were chosen."

"Your brother?" the detective asked. "You mean your partner?"

"Yea... my partner," he'd have to be more careful with what he said. Exhaustion was making him slip. "We've just been in the trenches together for so long that he feels like family."

Manuel gave him a look but then nodded. "I feel you."

Sam swerved in and out of traffic smoothly though he was going at speeds over the limit. "There were a lot of witnesses so we decided to split up. He made a connection two days ago." He played Dean's message to him.

"He didn't really leave me anything to go with in that message, so I've been searching for him."

"Why didn't you call me or the police?"

"Because I know how police procedure works and I knew I could find him faster."

"The last place he was seen was the Memorial Campus. I went there and one of the employees tried to send me on a false trail so I followed him and overheard a conversation that suggests that my partner and other victims were at Three Woods. But not for long."

"I've been working the case for weeks with no clues and you found victims in three days. The FBI really know what they're doing."

Sam didn't say anything to that.

They were coming up on a decrepit abandoned factory. It was completely out of the city. Turning off his headlights, Sam drove the car at a slowed pace to not alert possible persons in there of his presence.

"You ready for what you might find in there?" he asked the detective.

The man pulled and reloaded his gun to show he meant business.

"Good." They got out of the car and Sam opened the trunk. He strapped his knife holster with the gold dagger to his thigh to make sure it was in easy reach and raising his gun and flashlight at the ready, the two of them took up standard two man building clearing position with Sam in the lead and made their way inside.

Most of the building was falling apart. Doors hanged off hinges, water dripping constantly somewhere and pieces of scrap and wood were scattered everywhere. It was damp and dark and smelled of mold and rot. The perfect home for a monster.

Manuel was surprisingly quick and efficient for such a large man. They made swift work of most of the rooms on the bottom floor.

At the foot of the staircase leading upstairs they could hear voices and shuffling sounds. Turning to the detective, he indicated for quiet when climbing the shambling staircase. When they made it to the top, he turned to Manuel and directed him to go left and he would go right. Nodding to show he understood, Manuel quickly took off in the direction.

Turning his flashlight off, Sam crept down the hall to where he could hear movement. He snuck a peek into the room and felt dread at the horrible scene unfolding.

An ancient man-like being was hovering over Dean and another young man. He had wrinkled dark skin. His ribs visible under the leathery, dried looking flesh. His hands were longer than a human's and though his back was bowed with what could only be age, Sam guessed that he was pushing eight or nine feet.

Both Dean and the victim were hanging from ropes, their toes barely touched the ground limply in their unconscious state. Dean had dried blood on his face that looked like it started far up in his hair line.

Brady was dragging the bruised and mangled legs of a woman, her lifeless body contorting in a way that suggested at least some bones were broken. Dr Holland seemed to be chanting some kind of spell. She didn't quite look as human anymore.

He made eye contact with Arias who was on the other side. He could see that the detective was freaked out but he didn't have time for "the truth is out there" speech, bursting into the room, he fired several shots at what he assumed was Yantho.

It let out an inhuman screech. Manuel also raced into the room shooting at the doctor, She roared a roar that dislocated her jaw and threw a blue fireball at him. In his periphery he saw the detective go down but he didn't have time to check on him. Yantho was the priority.

Brady, yelling out a battle cry, was running towards him, with a piece of metal he must have picked up somewhere. Sam fired a shot between his eyes and emptied the rest of his clip into the doctor while running at Yantho.

He grabbed his dagger and just as he was about to sink it into the monster, he was flung against the wall by a gigantic fireball, dropping the blade. He heard it fly across the room but didn't see where it went.

Grimacing at the pain, he placed a forceful hand against his skull as he tried to sit up. His ears were ringing from the force of the blow and his clothing was burnt. Luckily he was wearing layers.

The doctor walked up to him and placed her heeled foot against his throat. All pretense at being human was gone as her alien-like face distorted and glitched repeatedly.

"You hunters," she said in a double voice. "Always think you're better than us. Well die like the vermin you are."

Sam could see Yantho feeding on his unconscious brother as his vision wobbled.

Not like this, he thought as he tried to push her feet off his windpipe.

Suddenly both Yantho and the doctor exploded into dust. Manuel limped over to Sam, holding the gold dagger, his shoulder bloodied.

Giving him a hand, the detective pulled him to his feet with a grunt. They both immediately rushed to the tied up men. Sam to his brother and Manuel to the stranger. The stranger groaned a little as Manuel cut his bindings and laid down tiredly on the floor.

"Dean!" Sam said urgently, "Hey! Hey!" he grabbed the dagger from Manuel, cut him down and they both laid him on the ground. "Dean!" he called again. Dean wasn't breathing. "No-no-no-no-no!" he cried helplessly. "Dean!" his voice cracked.

Pushing him roughly out of the way, Manuel quickly pressed his ears to Dean's chest and started to perform chest compressions.

Undeterred, Sam just came rushing back to his brother's side. "Hey! Wake up Dean!" He shouted as he grabbed his face.

"...9, 10, 11, 12, 13..." Manuel was busy counting, adrenaline numbing the pain in his shoulder. He was not going to let this man die. The large man next to him seemed to lose all his cool as he begged his unconscious... partner? to wake up.

"Come on, wake up brother," Sam begged. He was starting to lose hope. Manuel had administered rescue breaths through three cycles already and still Dean was unresponsive. He could feel the tears starting to prickle his eyes. "Please wake up," he said, broken.

"Come on!" Manuel yelled as he started counting again. With a giant gasp, Dean shot up, his eyes wide open and confused, before sagging back down, only to be caught by Sam. "Hey! Hey! You're all right," he said as Dean continued gasped for breath, leaning against him. Body trembling, Sam sat on the floor, Dean between his legs. He wrapped an arm around his brother's chest while resting his other hand on his bent head.

"I got you. You're alright."

* * *

AN: Please leave a comment or fav to let me know what you think of the story so far! Thank you :)


	9. Say Something

They were back at their motel room and no one was talking. Dean sat at the tiny table, knocking back cheap whiskey like it was water and Sam sat on Dean's bed casting furtive glances at his brother, as subtly as he could.

They'd left Three Woods a little under an hour ago but it still hadn't sunk in yet that they'd survived another one.

"De-"

"Not now, Sam," Dean interrupted. Since they'd hobbled their way to the Impala and made it to the motel, Dean had barely glanced in Sam's direction. His quiet was making Sam feel uneasy, tense.

Getting up, his brother walked into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Before long, Sam heard the shower turn on.

Making a hurt, lost sound, Sam continued to stare at the closed door for a while. It felt so final, like Dean has physically shut him out as well as symbolically.

Only a few days ago they'd been so close, practically living in each other's space. How could a few days create such a chasm between them. He wanted to be near his brother again.

* * *

After killing the monster and saving Dean, Detective Arias had gone to the other victim, Henry Mason. The missing college kid. He made sure the boy was okay and turned to Sam and Dean.

"You're not FBI. Are you?" he said resigned, favoring his shoulder.

Sam shook his head.

"What was that – that thing?" the detective asked almost like he couldn't believe it was real.

"A monster," Sam said fiercely. After a moment,"why aren't you freaking out?"

"My family was from Mexico originally. There are a lot of unexplained things there. None I've ever seen but I grew up hearing impossible stories so..." he shrugged. Gesturing to Dean, "How is he?"

"We'll be okay. We've faced worse." Dean was leaning forward on his own power at this point but Sam wanted nothing more than to let Dean know that he could depend on him.

Shrugging again, the detective looked around at the pile of ash, the dead woman who he was betting was Isabella and the man with the bullet in his skull. "How the hell am I gonna explain all this?"

"Nurse Brady here kidnapped Isabella and Henry, you found evidence that the victims all went to the same hospital shortly before disappearing. When you questioned him he seemed suspicious so you followed him here and you saw this. You killed him and saved Henry. You suspect that he also killed more victims but you don't know where he stashed the bodies."

"Wait you think there are more victims?"

Dean hadn't said anything this whole time and Sam was getting worried that something was wrong with him. He was clearly awake from his whizzing breath but he was silent.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. He reached for Dean to help him to his feet only to pause briefly when Dean flinched slightly away from his touch. Shaking it off, he placed Dean's arm over his shoulder and hefted him up, supporting his brother's full weight.

"I don't mean to run but you got this right?"

"Yea," the detective said. He was already pulling out his phone to make the call.

"Uh... what are you going to say about us?"

"Never saw you," he answered. "I have a feeling I don't want to look too deep into who you really are," before he turned his attention to the phone. "Detective Arias, Badge number 2845..."

* * *

Sam came back to himself when the door opened and Dean stepped out in a towel. He had a few purple bruises on his chest but otherwise he looked fine.

Getting up, Sam walked into the steamy washroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The bathroom smelled so strongly of Dean that he felt closer to him there than with the actual flesh and blood man who was blocking him out right now. He came to himself when he heard the front door open and close.

Dean probably ran out of whiskey and went to search for more.

Something had happened to Dean in those three days and he was falling back on bad habits. Whatever it was, they would have to talk about it but for now Dean needed time to process. That much he understood.

He removed his soiled and burnt clothes and let the lukewarm water wash away three days worth of fear and worry.

* * *

He sat at the desk waiting for Dean to come back for over two hours. It was almost 9pm and he was worried about his brother's mental state. Truthfully, he would have felt better at having Dean in his line of sight constantly, but he knew that if he tried that, Dean would just react badly. The problem was that he'd just been held hostage only a few hours ago. He'd disappeared for three days when Sam wasn't looking. Who's to say it couldn't happen again?

Making a decision, he grabbed his jacket and went looking for Dean. His best guess was that he was at the bar a few blocks away.

* * *

Walking into the dive, he spotted Dean right away. He had a gorgeous, busty brunette draped over him. She was laughing at everything Dean was saying. He could tell that his brother already had a few more drinks by the dopey grin on his face.

He sighed and walked over to him.

"Dean," he said, tapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed. "Come join us, brother."

The woman smiled but Sam could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes. Clearly she wanted Dean to herself.

"No. I think you've had enough." He made to grab him but Dean knocked his hand away.

"Why you have to be such a buzz kill. Relax. Sit. Have a drink," Dean motioned to the bartender.

"I don't want a drink and you shouldn't be drinking right now. You almost died tonight," he hissed quietly.

"All the more reason to celebrate."

"Dean," he pleaded.

"He doesn't want to go with you," the woman said. "Leave him alone."

Ignoring her, he said again, "Dean. Come on. Let's go."

Taking the new drink he got and downing it, Dean gave him a dismissive look.

"Fine," Sam decided, turning to leave. Why was Dean acting like such a child. Why did he have to always be the responsible one. Dean almost died tonight. He should be resting, recuperating. Instead he was in this seedy place letting that strange woman wrap herself around him. Well he was done. Dean could do whatever he damned well wanted.

"Where you going Sammy?"

"Anywhere but here," he shot angrily over his shoulder.

Storming out of the bar felt good and cathartic but as soon as he got outside, he regretted saying the words.

He didn't mean it. Dean could be an idiot sometimes but Sam always wanted to be near him. Sighing in resignation as all the anger drained out of him, he went back to the room. Dean would come back when he was ready. Besides, he could tell that Dean wasn't actually drunk. After so many years of hard drinking, it took a lot of alcohol before his brother reached well and truly sloshed. He was just trying to lose himself temporarily. Get outside his own head as it were.

Opening the tiny door, he dropped the keys on the table. He couldn't blame him. He'd almost died.

Dean had almost died tonight.

The reality of that thought knocked him off his feet. Sinking onto the bed, he started to shake. If not for that phone call from Tim Mason or Detective Manuel's help, Dean would be dead right now.

He felt bile rise up in his throat and barely made it to the bathroom in time. Heaving over the bowl several times, he moaned in pain as his body shook and his stomach emptied its contents. When he was sure he was done, he flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth. With barely any strength, he pulled down the cover and just sat there. Lost in thought and waiting for his body to recover.

* * *

He didn't know how long he was in the bathroom for, before he heard the front door open. Dean was back.

He would apologize for his earlier words and ask his brother to talk to him. Everything would be alright again.

Before he even got up off the bowl, he heard a low murmured,"He's not here. Come on in sweetheart. I can't wait to get you out of that dress." This was followed by feminine laughter and the unmistakable sound of passionate kissing.

Sam froze as he heard the front door slam closed.

"I wanted this as soon as I saw you walk into the bar," the woman moaned breathily.

The headboard slammed into the wall and the bed springs squeaked abruptly. The woman giggled. It sounded like Dean had thrown her onto the bed.

The mattress groaned under what must have been Dean's added weight.

'Oh shit,' Sam thought. That was not about to happen while he was in the bathroom. He didn't know what to do. Should he go outside now? Hide in the bathroom? Wait it out?

His body was frozen in mid-motion.

The bed strings protested again. It sounded like he was right there in the room with them.

"Ohhhh," the woman moaned at whatever Dean had done and suddenly Sam wasn't frozen anymore but he definitely couldn't go out there now. He felt like a deer caught in headlights, unable to make a decision. If he tried to leave now it would just be awkward for everyone and he really didn't want to leave the bathroom, but if he stayed he'd get to know Dean a little better than he was prepared to.

He heard a slight dropping noise. It sounded like clothing hitting the floor as the woman continued to moan softly. They were moving fast, making the decision for him. He was definitely not going anywhere now.

Dean made this dark chuckle, so similar to his regular one but filled with promise. Covering his ears childishly, Sam, as quietly as he could, crept to the furthest corner of the room. His huge frame tucked into the corner, panicking.

"Open up for me sweetheart," Dean whispered softly with promise.

Even with his covered ears, Sam could clearly hear Dean. In fact, it felt like his brother's words were being whispered into his own ears. Pinching his eyes closed as well, he tried to fully block out all sensory input. Maybe if he held his breath long enough, he could pass out and he wouldn't have to endure this, he thought.

The woman started keening, almost like she was in pain or whatever Dean was doing to her was too much. The sound was filled with tortured pleasure, increasing in volume until she was outright begging him.

"Please, faster," she moaned.

"Look at you. Coming apart on my fingers alone."

"Please, please" she kept repeating.

"What do you want sweetheart? Tell me," he murmured sensually.

"Please," she sobbed again.

"Tell me exactly what you want," he demanded.

Sam wasn't sure what Dean was doing but it was driving his partner crazy.

"I want to come," she whispered softly, brokenly.

"Good girl," Dean praised in his deep rumbling voice. It sounded like he was kissing her again.

The woman sighed appreciatively, almost thankfully, only to let out a sound of frustration. "Don't stop. Please."

Sam always knew that Dean had some kinks. There were so many things he'd let slip in conversations over the years, hints at a part of him that made him less than vanilla in the bed room. He was getting proof of a commanding streak, a dominating lover. Another kink to add to the growing list. Dean liked to be in charge in bed.

There was a sound that he couldn't decipher. Sam hadn't realized until he was straining forward to catch it that he'd stopped covering his ears and was actively listening. It was like porn, he tried to justify to himself as the first waves of arousal worked their way through him.

"-but," Dean was saying, "you're not going to come one second before I'm buried as deep inside you as I can go."

Sam felt a shiver race up his spine at the visceral image those words conjured.

"I'm going to bring you up so high, by the time I let you come, you'll feel like you can fly. Now be a good girl and get me wet with that gorgeous mouth of yours."

Sam could hear scurrying and a sharp noise. She must be eager, he thought. All he could hear for a while was messy slurping.

"How far down can you take me." He asked before letting out a deep appreciative groan. "Good, go slower and you'll take more."

Sam could feel his mouth salivate as he imagined the girl on her knees slowly swallowing his brother's cock.

"Fuck! That's perfect. Just like that." Dean groaned. "I could stay in your mouth all day," the girl moaned around her mouthful at that like she would love to stay on her knees for him.

"Come up here," he said. All Sam could hear was movement before the bed squeaked again and more movement. His hands were shaking in his determination not to touch himself. Maybe, it was not having the visuals to go with the obscenity. Maybe, because it was his brother in there and it was so wrong, but he'd never been so aroused in his life. He could feel himself throbbing in his pants.

The girl was starting to moan again. It was this trembling keening sound like she was falling apart.

"Here, Dean said. "Put your legs over my shoulders, It'll be easier," before Sam could hear soft slurping sounds.

"Oh fuck he's going down on her,' he thought. He spread his legs out on the tile floor to help loosen things and free up some room.

"Pleeasee," she cried desperately. "Don't stop. Please. So close."

It sounded like she was writhing on the sheets as she begged him. The bed creaked again and the girl started to fall apart.

"Yes!" she hissed the word on a long drawn out breath, before the familiar and unmistakable rhythmic moving caused the headboard to hit the wall repeatedly. "Yes! Yes! Oh God!" she cried before Dean kissed her through what sounded like a massive orgasm. The bed kept moving and the woman started moaning again.

"Yes! Please! So good!"

Sam sat there through three of her orgasms before he heard Dean let out this deeply pleasured, drawn out groan, so filled with ecstasy and satisfaction that it sent goosebumps racing from his scalp to his toes as they curled on the cold floor of a no tell motel.

Well fuck, he thought. He now knew what Dean sounded like when he came.

* * *

Not long after that, the girl got up and started to leave. She tried to give him her number but Dean smoothly talked her out of it and with a final snap, the door closed behind her.

Sam had a bit of a dilemma. How was he gonna get out of the bathroom? If he left now, Dean would know he'd been in there. Maybe he could just stay there until Dean went to bed, then sneak out. Or he could just stay there for the rest of his life. Seemed reasonable. He literally didn't think he had the courage to exit the bathroom. Give him a monster any day of the week and he'd face it, but ask him to walk into the room where Dean had just had sex and he was a goddamned coward.

Why didn't he leave when he'd heard first heard them. Sure it would have been difficult but it would have been better than this. Now there was no way he was going to get out of this without years of teasing. Not to mention the fact that he definitely didn't think he'd ever be able to look his brother in the eye again without hearing snippets of the porno he just experienced.

So like a coward, Sam just sat there in the bathroom.

It seemed that Dean was going to make the decision for him. His footsteps were coming toward the door. Probably to wash the girl off him. Shit! he hadn't thought of that. Sam quickly stood, as the door opened.

The two of them froze in this horrible tableau, him in panic and Dean in dawning realization. Getting his wits about him, finally, Sam muscled his way past his brother and quickly left the motel room. The door slamming behind him.

 _Coward._

* * *

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	10. Do You Still Believe In One Another

It was hard to not think of it as running away.

Sam walked aimlessly, taking somewhat remembered turns. Over the few days he'd been in the city, he'd become a little familiar with a few of the streets but overall, he didn't have much of a direction or destination planned.

As he walked, his racing mind kept returning to Dean and his behaviour. How could something like that have happened? Dean had barely made a cursory look into the room before he'd invited his female friend in.

Over the years, there had been sort of an unspoken rule. No women in their motel room. More so for the weapons and monster paraphernalia usually scattered around, than any thing else as it would be very easy to misunderstand but also because their motel room was kind of a sanctuary where they could fully be themselves without the lies that made up their everyday lives.

The only time he could remember any of them breaking that rule was when he'd lost his soul and Dean had been kidnapped by the fairies. Even then, asshole him only did it because he knew that Dean was not going to be there because of the whole kidnapped thing.

It was understood, or so he thought, that the room was a shared space and as a courtesy to the other, it would be treated with respect.

His phone went off in his pocket, the vibration unsettling against his skin.

DEAN, the screen said but he wasn't ready to talk to his brother yet, so he pressed the decline button and re-pocketed the phone.

Keeping his hands in his jacket pocket, he let his long legs take him where they wanted.

He walked for a while and eventually came upon an all night diner. Making a sudden decision, he detoured toward it.

A bell jingled overhead as he entered, causing the few patrons inside to briefly look up. He grabbed a seat close to one of the windows, frowning at the squeaky sound of the red leather and gave the plastic lamented menu a cursory look. His phone went off again.

Pulling it out, he scowled in annoyance as he saw Dean's name again. Clicking the decline button, he smiled up at the approaching waitress and ordered a black coffee.

He looked around more closely as he waited for his drink. It was a quaint, little spot. Familiar and nostalgic even though it was his first visit. Many of these businesses were disappearing across America to make way for the big chains like Biggerson's. It was a shame because they had a certain charm. He and Dean had practically grown up in an assortment of diners and motel rooms so it was sad to see pieces of his past slowly disappear.

Just as he received his order, a text message came in.

 **Dean**  
At least let me know you're alright and not dead somewhere. [2:16am]

He wavered slightly as he read the message a few times over. Sipping his coffee, he placed the phone on the table, face down. He was doing everything in his power to not think about earlier. It was best to wipe the memory from his mind.

Over the course of several minutes, the presence of his phone became the focal point of his attention. It felt like it had its own gravitational force. The more he tried to ignore it, the more conscious of it he was. Giving in, he picked it up and flicked back to Dean's message.

He started typing only to erase the message before turning off the screen and putting it down again.

An older man entered the cafe and started a conversation with his waitress. She seemed familiar with him as they laughed together.

Losing interest in the pair at the counter, his eyes went back to the phone, keeping it in sight as he drank his coffee. He truly did not know what to say so he didn't say anything for a long time. He just continued to drink his coffee.

Finally he came to a decision. He picked up the phone and quickly sent a message.

 **You**  
I'm fine. Be back soon. [2:32am]

He got a response almost immediately.

 **Dean**  
OK [2:32am]

He hadn't realized how tense his shoulders were until that message. The stiffness drained from his back and he relaxed considerably. At least they could still talk. He didn't know why it felt like there was so much space between them. Why it felt like simple things were now difficult if not impossible for them. It was like they weren't connected anymore.

Sam spent over two hours at the cafe drinking several cups of coffee. By the time he couldn't put off heading back anymore, he was literally vibrating with energy. Luckily he'd walked over two hours to get there so the extra energy would get him back to the motel.

He still had to pack his stuff so they could make the thirteen hour drive home. He was not looking forward to being trapped in the car with his brother for that long. Maybe this once he could just fly home and let Dean drive.

He dismissed the thought immediately. They'd gotten through worse things. In fact, he actually, now that he had had some time to calm down, really did want to talk to Dean. He wanted to know why Dean flinched away from him in that abandoned factory. He wanted to know why Dean needed to fall back on alcohol after a simple monster kidnapping. It certainly wasn't their first. He should have been able to bounce back from that easily enough.

He wanted to know why Dean violated their space so callously after never doing so in thirteen years. He wanted to know why Dean had blocked him out after they promised to talk to each other more...

These thoughts raced through his mind, bouncing around repeatedly and before he knew it he was back at the motel parking lot.

Dean was sort of lounging in the Impala eyes closed. Sam could see his bags, already packed, in the back seat alongside his brother's.

Entering the room, he double checked that everything was cleared and returned his key. He then climbed into the Impala, closing the door and waking Dean.

Dean looked at him for a moment and coming to some decision, started the car and drove off without saying a word.

Now that he was in the car, he did not know how to broach the topic. Would Dean shut him out again?

They hadn't been driving more than ten minutes when Dean started the conversation.

"We said we'd be more open with each other, so can we talk?"

Sam, who'd been watching the moving scenery while trying to come up with something to say, relaxed his posture and turned slightly to face his brother.

"I've been an asshole but I've just been trying to figure out what's what."

Frowning at that cryptic sentence, "what does that even mean?" he said slightly bewildered.

"I'm really sorry about earlier," making an embarrassed face. "That should not have happened."

"No kidding," Sam answered bluntly. "You barely checked to make sure the room was empty." Sam accused, voice filled with reproach. "Where else would I have been the night you almost died? Of course I was waiting for you to come back so we could fix whatever tension was between us."

Dean winced, gripping the steering wheel tightly but he didn't say anything.

"Do you know why I was in the bathroom?" Sam pushed on. "It hit me suddenly. You almost died. If not for two things happening at the right moment. You would have died! And I don't mean like in the past where death didn't have much weight because I could make some deal to bring you back or-or find a magical cure. You would have died last night if we didn't get there when we did. I only found a minor clue an hour before and I almost didn't find you on time. It hit me like a punch to the stomach and I basically had a panic attack. I told you Dean!" He said angrily. "I've been having dreams of you dying for weeks now. Weeks! And then you up and disappeared. I spent two sleepless nights looking for you! Without clues! Knowing time was running out." His hands were visibly shaking now. He saw Dean glance at them fleetingly.

"It's just from caffeine," he excused distractedly. "I haven't slept for a few nights because I couldn't rest knowing every second I wasted could be your last. Yet as soon as I find you, you pull away and do everything in your power to get away from me."

Through all this, Dean still didn't say anything.

"Over the last few days I've had a lot of time to think Dean. Why did I keep feeling that you were going to die? It was like this constant impending sense of doom, but about you. And you know what I realized? It's because I've seen you die hundreds of times. And every time you come back I feel this growing desperation to keep you alive. But you're reckless and you jump into dangerous situations carelessly and thoughtlessly.

"I admire your bravery and willingness to sacrifice. My fearless big brother Dean, but while you can't live without me, I can't live without you more. I've had to live without you for more time than I've been alive. And the time I spent with you I spent watching you die, kill yourself or trying to save you."

He saw the scrunched up look of confusion on Dean's face so he explained matter of factly.

"You sold your soul for me and I spent a year trying to save you and failed. Within that year I spent another year fighting the trickster as he killed you over and over again. And I am sure that he was actually killing you each time. I spent another four months while you were in help trying to save you. I spent centuries in hell being tortured by Lucifer with images of you dying horribly.

"I've watched you try or succeed in killing yourself deliberately so many times. When-when you thought that werewolf killed me. Remember? I asked you about that and you lied. When we were looking for those kids. That time I'm pretty sure you were actually gone. Luckily Billie brought you back. The Mark of Cain when Metatron killed you and the list goes on. So of course I'm having nightmares about you dying. I feel like I value your life more than you do. And I'm always fighting to save it." There he paused to take a breath, fully turning to face his brother.

"You fucked a stranger in our room. I thought we didn't do that. Yea, I got to know a little more about you than I wanted. I'll be embarrassed for a while but I'll get over it.

"The problem I have is the why behind your behaviour because Dean you're spiralling man and I need you to talk to me. Tell me what is going on."

Dean looked shamefaced in the silence after Sam's rant. "You're right and I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for what happened last night. All I can say is I wasn't in my right mind."

"You said something like that before," Sam said. "What does that mean?"

"I guess I should start at the beginning..." 

* * *

Dean exited the Impala, he'd had to use the secondary visitor's parking because there weren't many free slots in the main and he wasn't going to get his baby scratched up trying to squeeze her into a tight spot.

Buttoning his jacket, he walked around the corner to the Emergency entrance. 

* * *

"After making the hospital connection, I knew there had to be some thing they all had in common. I still had three flower witnesses so I tackled them but with focus on the hospital." He quickly glanced at Sam before eyeing the road again. Sam was listening.

"The first guy I visited basically belonged on Hoarders he kept everything he'd had from his wife, the victim. Including her doctor's form. Framed. Along with her clothing in their room exactly the same way she'd left it. I'm telling you. It was creepy. But it helped. Dr. Maria Holland.

"The second woman lost her daughter. She couldn't remember the doctor's name but she remembered a joke the doctor made every time they visited her. Something about a country in Europe. She thought it was strange that a Mexican had a last name of a European country. Her words. A bit racist, but it was the evidence I needed. I looked up the hospital's directory and found a Dr. Maria Holland on staff so I headed there right away. It made sense that she was the monster. Actually I was hoping I'd just kill her and get back in time to grab a few drinks and leave town. 

* * *

He entered the cool building and walked to the desk that said Registration. There were two women and a man and he quickly made an assessment as to which one would be more helpful.

One of the women immediately stopped what she was doing and just stared at him as he approached.

Bingo, he thought before pasting on his best smile and reaching for his badge.

"Agent Plant, FBI," showing his badge, he said as an introduction before sticking it back in his jacket pocket. "I am looking for Dr. Holland." His smile became blinding in its wattage.

"Do you have an appointment?" The male, Brady his name tag said, asked.

"I... do not however -"

"Dr. Holland is one of our most requested doctors. It's hard to just see her without an appointment." Brady interrupted. 

* * *

"No matter what I said, that nurse wouldn't budge. I should have known something was off about him. Luckily the other nurse was not as difficult. She happily sent me to the doctor's office. Apparently the doctor was free at that moment..." 

* * *

"If you would like to make an appointment I'd be happy to schedule you in." Brady said determinedly. He was not going to budge, which Dean could respect. But he needed that information.

"Normally that would be true but five minutes wouldn't hurt," the nurse who been staring at him said.

"I only need 5 minutes," he agreed, leaning against the desk and winking at her in the way that always got him phone numbers. "you would be helping your country. I can sense that you're very patriotic," he said to her. What the hell did that even mean, he berated himself slightly.

"Of course agent. Anyway I can help." The way she said this was so dripping with innuendo that her other coworker coughed delicately in embarrassment and Brady pretended to not hear anything. 

* * *

"I was on my way to the doctor's office but I saw her entering one of the patient's rooms on her floor. She was acting suspiciously, so I snuck into the room next door to see if I'd have a chance to take her out. I called you right before. I didn't want her to hear me. She was doing something to the patient. I was trying to get a better look while sending the texting. Next thing I knew I woke up tied to the ceiling in that abandoned factory." 

* * *

Groaning, he came to with a pounding headache. Someone had hit him over the head.

"Son of a bitch," he grunted.

"Hello?" a tentative voice said somewhere to his right.

Swinging around as best he could, mainly struggling and flailing for a bit, he was finally able to turn his body. There as a young man, maybe early twenties, also hanging from the ceiling.

"Henry Mason?" he asked.

"Yeah? How do you know my name?"

"Actually I'm here to rescue you."

He saw the boy look at his bindings questioningly.

"There was a girl here before you. Somewhere behind me. I never saw her but she was always crying... until she stopped," this he said quietly. "I think she's dead and I'm sure they just left her there. I keep thinking there's a dead body behind me." His voice was filled with horror. "Please. Tell me you have a plan to get us out of here."

Truthfully he had no clue. "Working on it," he lied.

* * *

"The kid was scared and I didn't have a plan. You didn't know where I was and I didn't know how I was gonna get out so all I could do was bluff and hope you could find me."

* * *

"Whatever your plan is, we gotta hurry. They'll be back soon."

"I'm working on it," he said this time with less optimism as he tried to yank on his bindings unsuccessfully.

"You don't have a plan do you," he said hopelessy.

"Working on it," he promised, trying his best to get free.

"Well well if it isn't mister big bad Hunter." A woman's voice said just before Dr. Holland entered the room, Brady right behind her.

'Shit,' he thought. He was out of luck lately. 'Well time to bluff my way through this and hope I can buy some time for Sam to find me.'

"You came all this way for me?" he said with a smirk. "You shouldn't have."

"But you're the guest of honour. Yantho will feast for days on you."

"What the hell lady. Only douchebags refer to themselves in third person."

"Oh, how precious. You think I'm Yantho?" she laughed sinisterly and pointed to a corner almost out of his eye shot. "He is Yantho."

Clearly she was crazy. There was no one there. He told her as much.

"But you're wrong. He has been here with you the entire time." The malicious glee made her pretty face warp into something evil and cruel.

The corner of the room she pointed to, a mangled pile of rot, junk and metal, slowly slithered and twisted, uncoiling and stretching itself into a human-like form. The entire motion was filled with awful and wrong.

If Dean didn't make it his job to search out monsters, the slowly approaching creature would have scared him shitless. As it were, Henry was making these horrible crying sounds the closer the monster got.

"So what are you then? A groupie?" he said with fake calm, all the while side eyeing the lurching creature.

She huffed in annoyance and offence. "In my day, I was Yantho's most loyal priestess," she stated with a flourish. "I made sure he always had his tributes and as thanks, he granted me immortality."

"What about Beiber over there?" He asked

"A new generation of priests." She dismissed before giving him a thoughtful look. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to get me to tell you our plan. Well it won't matter because you won't be leaving here alive."

"I've gotten out of worse," he tried to communicate a careless shrug, unsuccessfully through his restraints.

"Not this time you won't. Yantho will feed on you until you're filled with despair and loathing." There was this underlying base in her tone, just almost out of hearing range. It was a tone no human vocal cord could pitch.

"Too late then. I'm already there. You might as well let me and the kid go."

"Keep joking, My master is hungry."

In the corner the silent figure of Yantho lumbered closer.

* * *

"The monster kind of acted like a djinn. It threw me into this fake dream world so seamlessly. I didn't even see it get near me. All I saw was that as the monster was coming towards me, you burst into the room and killed them all. You rescued us both and called the cops.

I didn't realize it wasn't real for days while in that fake world. At first dream-you got annoyed at all kinds of little things. I didn't think much of it. You're always a princess and I'm used to it. But it kept getting worse. Like everything I did would upset or anger you. We were constantly arguing until one day it turned physical.

You attacked me and we went our separate ways. I "woke up" tied in the factory after dream-you left and it started again with you rescuing me. That is when I started to realize that something was wrong. But I couldn't get out and it kept happening. In each cycle dream-you kept getting angrier and angrier with me. The last dream cycle before I woke up for real in that factory, you were choking me," Sam made a soft sound at that.

"I'm sure I was going to die in the real world with you killing me in the dream. When I first woke up, I thought it was just another cycle. They always started the same way. With you rescuing me and I'd had enough. I didn't want to play his game anymore."

"How do you know you're not still dreaming then?" Sam challenged. He was especially familiar with waking hallucinations and how real they could feel.

"You know how a dream feels so real when you're in it but when you wake up you start wondering how you thought it made sense? Well he couldn't get you right. I mean at all. And your face when you left that bathroom, let's just say dream Sam could never look at me like that."

Sam stiffened at the reminder.

"I can't say I'm sorry enough..." Dean trailed off sadly.

"It's just sex. I just never wanted to hear you in the act." After clearing the air, Sam suddenly wasn't as embarrassed about the whole thing anymore. In fact it felt like he had an opportunity to rib his brother.

"I always knew you were a control freak,"

Dean's surprise laugh forced one out of him.

"Shut up," Dean teased, shoving him a little with one hand while maintaining control of the car. 

* * *

The sleepless nights had finally caught up to him and Sam kept dozing off during the drive but he couldn't seem to sink into a deep sleep no matter how hard he tried. Something would startle him awake or the ride would be too bumpy.

By the time they made it home, he was so ready to drop off. He could feel the weariness in his bones.

Emptying out the Impala took the longest time. They always cleared things out as soon as they got home because Dean did not like clutter in his car if it didn't have to be there but he was just dragging his feet. He stubbornly refused to let Dean do it all. He'd already cleared out the motel. Sam couldn't leave him with all of this as well. 

* * *

After several hours of tossing and turning in his bed, he groaned loudly in annoyance. It's like he forgot how to sleep.

Finally giving up, he went to his drawer for the really good painkillers. It would numb some of the residual aches from being slammed against the wall but more importantly it would make him sleep. He didn't have dreams when he took them so they were a safe bet for getting some rest. The problem was that they were addicting and he didn't want to go down that road again. But, he reasoned, once in a while couldn't hurt.

Swaying on his feet with exhaustion, he made a rapid decision and downed double the recommended dose. Just to make sure.

He climbed tiredly into his bed and sighed into the firm pillow. His limbs felt like they were being held down by weights.

Slowly, his eyelids started to drop. He fell asleep with a sense of relief. 

* * *

He could hear a wounded sound echoing around him.

"Sam! Wake up!"

"Dean?" his voice overflowing with relief. Before he could think about it, he reached out to touch his brother's face.

"You're alright," he sounded surprised even to his own ears.

Slowly his awareness of his surroundings solidified and he came to his senses.

"What's going on?" he asked, sitting up in the bed.

"You were having a nightmare. I could hear you all the way in my room." Dean sat at the edge of the bed. "Are you alright?" The shaft of light emanating from the hallway cast harsh shadows, emphasizing his brother's features and highlighting his concern starkly.

"I'm fine. Sorry. I'm fine," he said again. "It was just a dream. You can go back to bed. Sorry to wake you."

"You're sure you're okay?" Dean asked, not even a little convinced.

Nodding, "I'm fine." He wanted Dean to leave before he could see how badly he was shaking as residual memories resurfaced.

Turning away from his brother he lay back in the bed. He heard a soft but doubtful "okay," before Dean's retreating steps took him to the door.

The hallway light quickly disappeared with a soft click of the closed door. He tooth a deep trembling breath only to tense when he heard in the darkness, "Liar."

'Dean?" he asked the void.

"Scoot over," Dean answered before lifting the covers and climbing into the bed. Sam said nothing and made room, too surprised. He stared over his shoulder into the darkness at the silhouette of his brother as he made himself comfortable in Sam's bed.

Lying back down, heart fluttering against his chest, Sam stared widely into the shadows.

"I thought we promised to tell each other the truth Sam," he said settling under the covers, his back to Sam's.

Sam didn't know what to say to that. How was he supposed to explain this?

"You never have to hide from me. Not about anything," Dean said vehemently.

"I know," he whispered in the dark.

After a while, Dean asked softly, encouragingly, "want to tell me about it?"

"I didn't get there in time to save you," Sam said on a rushed breath. "No matter how many times Manuel performed CPR you just w-wouldn't wake up," his voice cracked reliving the dream.

"You did save me Sammy. I'm right here." He pressed his back to Sam's so he could feel his real solidness. "You got there in time."

Sam's shiver shook the entire bed. "Now sleep. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

* * *

A/N - Please leave a like or comment to let me know what you thought of the chapter. Thank you!


	11. I Couldn't Help But Ask

Chapter 11: I Couldn't Help But Ask

Despite the nightmare he'd suffered through last night, Sam woke up feeling surprisingly good. He laid on his stomach, limbs spread out haphazardly and taking over the entire bed. His eyes were still closed, not ready to open them. He was awake but he did not feel like actually getting up yet so he just laid in the bed, hands under his pillow and propping his head up slightly. He felt comfortable where he was. He could feel loose strands of hair tickling his nose but it wasn't the kind of distraction that needed his immediate attention.

Dean had long since left. His side of the bed was cold by the time Sam decided to utilize the mattress to it's entirety. He was probably out there cleaning the weapons as he always did when a hunt was over.

Sam didn't know how Dean was able to bounce back from near death experiences so resiliently. When he was the one in one of these situations, he always fell apart. He scrunched up his nose in distaste as the memory of the night he summoned a crossroad demon while drunk flashed in his mind's eye. Not his finest moment, and even now over a decade later he was still embarrassed about it.

He turned over lazily and finally opened his eyes. The room was pretty dark as there were no windows. His only source of light, the slow roll of his generic screensaver. He let his eyes sweep over the spot his brother had slept in. Although Dean was no longer there and the cool sheets had no more traces of his warmth, Sam could swear that he could still feel his presence on the rumpled sheets. He ran his fingers over the spot absently, further crumpling the covers.

His mind went back to yesterday. He couldn't imagine being trapped in a place where Dean continually became more violent towards him. He took for granted just how much Dean focused on him and the thought of not being number one to his brother sent a genuine shiver of fear through him.

Even after the rough patch they'd been through, he had stayed with him after that shattering nightmare. Dean could have left, he could have also ignored whatever sounds he had been making. Instead, ignoring his own discomfort, he'd climbed into Sam's small bed to reassure him and he was grateful. The kind of lives they lived, while he actually enjoyed, it he wouldn't be able to survive it without the support he got from Dean.

Even when he literally just survived a life and death situation, Dean was putting him first. His brother seemed incapable of doing otherwise. His behavior after they left the motel made so much more sense. Dean must have felt such resentment to this fake brother who could only grow to hate him enough to try and kill him.

He was just glad that they were able to fix the issues that had resulted from this latest monster mindfuck.

As if summoned, the memory of being in the motel bathroom flashed in his mind and with all his will, he tried to forced it back behind the wall of things he didn't think about. Although he had joked about the whole thing in the car yesterday, in the light of the new day, he was experiencing some pretty strong delayed embarrassment.

After they'd reconciled it had felt like the whole thing could be easily swept under the rug and forgotten, after all it was not news to him that Dean had brother was the epitome of a sexual being and he enjoyed and actively sort out sex. Dean also had working parts. They shared a small space for the majority of their lives, so not only had he seen Dean in every state of undress he could. He'd also seen him in several states of excitement, the morning variety being the most notable one.

Maybe it was that despite all this, he'd seen his brother as kind of like a Ken doll. His eyes didn't register or notice the parts of him that made up an actively sexual male unless they could help him further his agenda of bugging his perfect big brother.

Huffing in annoyance, he wondered why this whole thing was bothering him so much anyway. Maybe because he'd been forced to take Dean out of the protective wrapping of brother and see this completely new side of him. A side that he'd never experienced in all his years. He'd glazed over the fact that for Dean to have hickeys he could make fun of, someone would have to be - He cut off that thought before it went any further and sat up decisively. Yup definitely time to get up.

His muscles were stiff and he kind of still felt a little sluggish from the pills but apart from that, he was fine. Only remnants of the nightmare remained and as soon as he saw Dean again, any ghosts of it would be swept away.

He flicked on the lights and glanced around the room. It was a little messy with his clothing lying around. He vaguely remembered shedding his travel clothing carelessly before dawning a fresh set and going to bed. He wrinkled his nose at the mess and tidied up. He definitely needed to get some laundry done. Maybe he could do Dean's as well.

It wasn't normally a strange thing to do both their laundry together. It was just the two of them so why not economize on the effort but to be honest, even though things seemed fine yesterday, he was a little worried that he and Dean might have a little awkwardness between them still because of the whole bathroom/sex thing. Ugh, it sounded like he was thinking about him and Dean having bathroom sex. He tried to imagine bleaching the thought from his mind as he made gagging noises. He stepped outside. His first priority food.

He just had to play it cool. He could do cool.

* * *

Sam walked down the two shallow steps into the kitchen, surprised to see Dean sitting at the wooden table, reading. He had a beer bottle near him, half finished.

Looking up at him briefly, Dean mumbled a good morning before going back to his book.

"Morning," Sam replied. "A little early for that isn't it?" he nodded towards the bottle.

"Bud Light," he said, "Less Alcohol. It's practically good for you."

"It's still beer Dean," Sam scoffed.

"But," Dean stressed, "less alcohol. Why else would I be drinking this. It tastes like piss water," The distaste on his face was almost comical. "Besides we have nothing else to drink."

"There's water," Sam argued. He didn't really care if Dean drank beer in the morning. It would take more than that to really affect him and he'd gotten much better over the last few years but any chance he got to poke and prod at him he would take.

Dean gave him such a betrayed look Sam's serious face almost cracked. "If it's a choice between water and this crap, I'll take the piss." Putting the book downward on the table to preserve his page, he said "my own brother."

Sam shook his head and hid his smile as he sat down. He picked up the book and read the title. 'Magic In Japan – Kotodama (Soul of Languages)' and making sure to mark where Dean had left off, he quickly skimmed through it.

"Some light reading?" stopping on a page that interested him. Unlike what most people believed, Dean was almost as voracious a reader as he was. The only difference was that his brother thought that he had a certain image the world expected him to fill so he deliberately filled it.

Sam was worried that if he continued to do so, eventually Dean would start to believe the lie. Not only was his brother brilliant, he was able to take control of a room or situation almost immediately. A natural leader that others just instinctively trusted and wanted to follow.

"It's interesting." He gave Sam an assessing look. "You should read it when I'm done. I think you'll like it."

"You think so? Sure." Sam had not looked up from the page yet. It really seemed like an interesting book but more than that, he was just really happy that they could talk easily again. After a moment, he surrendered the book back to Dean and got up to make himself some breakfast.

"I'll make you something. Sit," Dean said, getting up.

"You don't always have to make me stuff you know. I can feed myself," he chuckled softly. He didn't want Dean to think he was rejecting his help. He just wanted him to know that he didn't always have to.

"I know you can but you had a bit of a rough night so let me do this for you. Besides it's practically tradition by now for me to feed you."

There it was again. Dean was always so selfless. He'd almost died yet he prioritized Sam's nightmares. "I think it's more likely that dominating streak you have more than tradition. I'm on to you," he jokingly said the thoughtless comment, immediately catapulting them back to awkward and uncomfortable.

Silence fell over the room. He could tell that Dean was thinking about the motel incident because he was making that same pained face again. Trying to salvage the situation, Sam quickly added, "It's a good thing you're so good at it." Wait, would Dean get that he meant cooking and not the other stuff? He started to panic a little, mind floundering and mouth tempted to let loose a barrage of verbal vomit.

"Only good? I could put Gordon Ramsay to shame." He was either giving Sam a way out of his blunder or pretending not to notice it. He took a deep relieved breath as Dean placed a pan on the stove and started to beat a few eggs in a bowl.

With relief, he hurriedly changed the topic to avoid any more embarrassing slip ups. "I'm doing some laundry in a while. If you need anything washed bring it to the laundry room."

"Hmm," Dean said as he made quick work of some scrambled eggs and toast. "What's the plan for the next little while?"

He rest his chin on his steepled hands as he thought about that. "I think we should take a break."

"Hmm," Dean said thoughtfully. Grabbing the stuff he prepared, he placed it in front of his brother, along side a glass of water. Sam looked at the glass incredibly, and then at Dean, shit eating grin spreading across his face.

"Ha ha very funny," He said and to be a brat he grabbed the glass and drank it all before smirking triumphantly back.

He ate his breakfast in companionable silence while Dean took up his book again and it felt good. He felt good. Dean was here. Safe.

* * *

It had been over a day since he showered what with travelling all day yesterday and going straight to bed from exhaustion. He decided to hit the showers before getting to the laundry just so he could feel refreshed again.

He walked into the showers and quickly shed his clothing. He was looking forward to the feeling of the warm water. They really lucked out with the bunker. It had amazing water pressure.

The steady downpour of the water was soothing as steam rose with the rising temperature. Stepping under the flow, he sighed as the temperate stream sluiced down his body. Bending his head under the water, his hair flowed over his face for a second before he ran his fingers through it a few times, pushing it back.

He really hoped Dean would seriously consider taking a mini break. For the first time in years, neither of them were dying, soulless, in hell or some other dimension. Maybe it was selfish but he just wanted to keep Dean somewhere where he wouldn't be jumping in front of the next big bad saying, "Come get me!"

He'd thought of it in passing over the years. Just clicking pause on the world ending but they never realistically could. Now that there wasn't some vengeful trying to rip the world apart at the seams, they didn't need to go out and search for crazy. Not only that but there were a lot of hunters out there now. Let them deal with it for a while.

He grabbed his shampoo and lathered his hair, getting in a quick head massage while he was at it. It was a little fruity scented but he actually kind of liked it. Dean had picked it up as a joke but the joke was on him. His mind wandered as he fell into the familiar task of shampooing.

Their last hunt had put too much of a strain on their relationship. He just wanted to focus on strengthening their bonds, making sure they were still good. That fumble in the kitchen was a perfect example. Not being able to tease Dean about something was just wrong and the fact that it created this strain between them was worrying.

He stooped under the spray and shut his eyes as the soapy foam run down his face and body. When his hair was soap free, he reached for his bottle of body wash next to Dean's but stopped and picked his brother's instead. He sniffed the bottle and sighed contentedly. He poured a healthy amount onto his washcloth before he began washing his big body.

Maybe there was a reason they were hesitating around each other. Clearly he was still a little caught up on the motel incident. Who could blame him though. It was like a systemic shock. He thought he'd known every thing there was to know about his brother.

He took a deep breath in as Dean's scent wrapped around him. He knew that women fell all over themselves in his brother's presence. It had been that way since they were teenagers but he never considered that his brother might actually know what he was doing with those women. He'd been so-so commanding, confident as he told that woman what he wanted her to do and what he'd to her.

Opening his eyes in surprise, he hadn't even known he'd closed them, he felt horrified that he was actively trying to remember details of the incident. It made him uncomfortable to think of Dean this way so cutting that series of thought off, he quickly rinsed off and left the bathroom.

* * *

As he was walking down the hall, he saw his brother.

"Hey Sam. Going on a supply run. Need anything?" Sam mentioned a few things he needed and soon after, Dean was gone. He ambled down to the laundry room with his things, in a fantastic mood. Every time he had a good interaction with his brother, even a brief one, it banished the negative, doubtful voice in his head.

There was a basket filled with clothing waiting for him. Dean had already left his stuff in the room. A combination of textiles like towels and bedsheets, home clothes and suits and streetwear from their last hunt. That pile was smaller than usual.

Makes sense. Dean had spent three days tied up in the same clothing. It's funny. He didn't remember Dean smelling badly on the drive back to the motel. That could have been because he was just so relieved to have him back that he didn't notice.

Sorting everything in workable piles, he decided to work on the textiles first. They didn't need as much attention as the others. He started piling the items into the washing machine.

The first thing Dean had done when he got back was shower so if there had been any lingering proof of his harrowing three days Sam would never know. Besides, he thought that Dean always smelled good – a combination of his body wash and natural scent. Even when they were out in the muck and mud, sweating and bleeding, he could always pick out Dean's scent.

He couldn't quite decipher what it was but it was as familiar to him as his hand. Lifting his brother's sheets to his face, he took a deep breath, trying to identify the different hints that made up Dean. He truly couldn't tell. It smelled like home – like Dean, but he couldn't pick up special hints that reminded him of any other scent he'd smelled in his life. All he knew was that it was a good smell. I wonder if that girl noticed how good he smelled too, he thought.

Pull the sheets away from his face, "What am I doing?" he asked no one in particular. He quickly stuffed the sheets into the machine with the other items. He was standing in their laundry room sniffing his brother's dirty sheets like a creeper. He turned on the machine and walked away feeling disbelief at himself as water filled the drum.

* * *

He lay in his bed that might feeling perplexed. He didn't know why he was so hang up on what happened in the motel but it just kept flashing through his mind through random periods in the day. So much, that he felt so guilty that he couldn't look his brother in the eye during dinner.

No matter how smooth he kept trying to be, he was pretty sure Dean knew something was up. Sometimes he wished his brother wasn't so perceptive.

The problem was that he'd finally understood that to get a good night's rest, he needed to be in Dean's presence, even if it was just for a little while until his mind finally accepted that Dean was not going anywhere. So although he was now in his room, he knew that he'd be crawling over to his brother soon. He didn't even know why he kept up the pretense of going to his room. Inevitably, he'd end up in Dean's if he didn't want to suffer a night like last night.

Getting up, he decided that he was being ridiculous. He had an open invitation from Dean. He could ask for help, free of judgment, so there was no reason to agonize over it when he would give in anyway.

He quickly walked the short distance to his brother's room and pausing his hurried pace at the door, he knocked. It was past midnight so he wasn't sure if Dean was awake or not. "Dean?" he asked softly,

Dean's voice was gravel rough, as he told Sam to come in, like he'd already been asleep.

He flicked the lamp on when Sam opened the door and frowned in his direction from the sudden harshness of the lights as his eyes tried to adjust.

Sam closed the door behind him softly as he entered the room, pressing his back to said door like even closed, he could still walk through it if needed. "Can I stay here tonight?"

Dean waved a careless hand at the couch in agreement before dropping his head back on the pillow. Sam's gaze landed on the couch. It was a very comfortable couch, he knew this but he hadn't realized until that very moment how much he didn't want to sleep alone. It wasn't enough anymore to just be in the same room. He, more than anything wanted to climb into that big bed next to his brother.

Turning away from the couch, he looked at Dean helplessly, hoping he could telegraph what he wanted somehow.

With a sleepy, resigned groan, Dean lifted the covers making room for his pain in the ass brother. Sam, not wanting to give him time to change his mind, quickly climbed in as the lights flicked back off. This is exactly what he wanted. He took a deep breath and burrowed into the pillows – pleased.

The sheets and pillows were cool under his skin but they no longer smelled like Dean. It didn't matter though because the source of his favorite scent was right there.

"Thanks," he whispered, his back to his brother.

"Sleep," Dean said tiredly.

* * *

A/N: Please leave a like or comment on this chapter to let me know what you think. I've already written several chapters of this story (Into the twenties) and would post faster with better encouragement. I like writing but because of the lack of response I sometimes forget to post the chapters I've already written.


	12. Little Do You Know

Little Do You Know

* * *

He suddenly had that feeling of awareness. Of being in that somewhere between awake and still sort of asleep. It felt late... or early depending on one's perspective. His body had that heaviness like he hadn't gotten enough sleep yet.

Clearly something had woken him but he was too tired to try and sort it out. His body wasn't alert so it couldn't have been anything dangerous. Besides, the bunker was warded against every conceivable threat.

He could feel sleep pulling him back under when a small movement jolted him straight out of the nebulous grasps of unconsciousness and smack into fully awake and present. There was a heavy, warm band of an arm across his back, pinning him to the bed.

He must have woken when Dean's arm had snaked around him. It would make sense that something like that would register to his sleeping mind. It was jarring. He'd always been the holder so the foreign touch must have startled him awake.

This made sense. What didn't make sense was his pounding heart. It was thumping almost violently against his ribcage and had been since the moment he understood what was going on. It felt like a panicked creature struggling to get out of his chest.

He lay in the bed completely still as he tried to calm his furiously racing pulse. This was to no avail, the heat from his brother's arm like a brand against his skin.

A short eternity passed in that position before the arm holding on to him tightened a little more. He was hyper-aware of the warm fingers under his body, pressed against his stomach. It felt like he was being seared by their heat.

Trying not to panic, he squeezed his eyes shut. If Dean were to wake up right now, he wanted the excuse of sleep.

Eyes shut, he focused on the heavy thump of his heart in an attempt to cancel out his almost laser awareness of the heat against his skin.

Then, Dean's hand went even further under Sam, practically enveloping him. Sam stiffened as he tried to stave off the mass of tremors born from the unintended caress against the electrified skin under his brother's palm.

He lay there, tense and rigid, barely daring to draw in a breath. He didn't want to move for fear of waking Dean.

Eventually, he decided to risk it, mainly because his muscles were starting to cramp from holding still for so long. He raised his head as best he could to peer over his shoulder. From what he could see, dark as the room was, Dean was fast asleep on his stomach. One arm under his pillow and the other holding on to Sam. He must have just been seeking the closest warm body.

Sam didn't even consider trying to remove himself from the situation. Dean would wake up no matter what he did so his only option was to stay where he was. The alternative was unthinkable. If he woke Dean up trying to extricate himself well...

Dean moved again. This time he pulled Sam's body flush against his chest, sending a burst of sparks up and down his spine. He clenched his teeth and held his breath, trying to calm the riot of sensation rushing just under his skin.

This close, he could smell that amazing scent from his brother and it was playing havoc with his senses. Every point of contact between them felt hyper sensitized and he spent several minutes willing the live wire of sparks bursting through his body to calm down.

Any chance he had of escaping was gone, Dean had him well and truly held down. They were pressed close from knee to chest, with Dean's warm breath stirring the hair on Sam's neck. He'd never felt so surrounded before.

Slowly, his tense body started to relax as the need for rest returned and the overwhelming sensations dulled. He was lulled into calm by Dean scent and the feeling of being protected. Before he knew it, he was sinking back into sleep from sheer exhaustion, next to his brother.

* * *

The next time he woke up, he was alone in the bed. It did not seem like Dean had been there for a while, to his relief. His first thought was on that brief moment during the night when Dean had held him tightly to his chest.

What was that? He wondered a little alarmed. It had left like being pressed against a low electrical charge. He couldn't believe that he was even able to fall asleep from the intensity of it. He'd been around Dean all his life. They were basically in each other's space all the time and that had never happened before. He'd touched Dean many times without that overwhelming rush of static.

Could it have been because they were sharing a bed? But that couldn't be. They'd shared beds many times before, not in a long while but still it had happened. It wasn't even the first time Dean had gotten a little grabby in his sleep. It was just that in the past, he'd have simply pushed him away and the sleepy Dean would then turn over.

So why was he so worried all of a sudden about Dean waking up to find them basically spooning? Could it be that he was worried Dean wouldn't share a bed with him again because of it? It kind of seemed likely. Sam wanted to stay near him but if Dean felt weird about waking up holding on to his kid brother, he might rescind the invitation.

If he felt oddly about it, which he clearly did, imagine how strange Dean would feel. Maybe that was why his body reacted so weirdly last night. He had never had such an intense rush touching someone before and it left him utterly confused. On any given day, he and Dean shared dozens of unconscious touches and nothing strange came of it so it made sense that the problem was the sleeping arrangement. They hadn't shared a bed in several years and the newness of it made common place touches feel intense.

It had been a good intense though. Like the moment before they jumped into a fight, or when they took down the monster. Dean's strong body up against him, holding him in the shelter of his chest. It reminded him of when he used to be small and Dean would protect him from nightmares and all the bad things in the world.

His body may have grown, but he still felt like that boy who needed his big brother's protection sometimes.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the evidence of where Dean had slept. Crumpled sheets and disarrayed pillows. He tried not to think of why he was doing it but he grabbed Dean's pillow and hugged it to his face, taking in a deep breath. A shudder shook his body, remembering. He closed his eyes and just relished the feeling. If he tried hard enough, it could almost be like Dean was right there again.

He made a frustrated sound and yanked the pillow off his face. What was wrong with him? He didn't know what was going on in his head.

Groaning, he got up. There was no use wondering about the random paths his thoughts took. He had a busy day ahead of him. He might as well focus on that, instead of the futile circles his mind was running in.

There were so many things he still had to do. He'd spent yesterday dealing with things around the bunker but today he really needed to get to documenting the case they'd just been on.

* * *

It was early morning and Sam had taken up residence in the library. He'd woken about an hour earlier and before he'd even finished getting ready for the day, the siren song of an unanswered mystery was already clamouring for his attention.

He was re-reading Jonathan's journal again. Even though they had already killed the monster, he wanted to make note of everything that had happened and why. He still had some questions.

Monsters usually followed a certain pattern but he still wasn't quite sure how the victims were chosen. By all accounts, Dr. Holland had been a highly decorated, dedicated and requested doctor. She saw hundreds of patients yearly so why did she pick the ones she did and how did Dean fall into that category? It could be that they only intended to kill him because he found out about their operation. However Yantho had been feeding on him, so he must have qualified some way.

To even get started, Sam needed to figure out what exactly Yantho was. It clearly had not been a god, at least not like any of the deities they'd met. Based on its appearance, dwelling and general behaviour, this had been a monster, but what kind?

There were many similarities between Yantho and the djinns they had encountered in the past and this was the first possibility Sam intended to look into. The djinns they killed before fed on blood or certain emotions.

The one who'd held Dean hostage several years ago had built him a 'perfect' fantasy world, everything he'd thought he wanted, while it fed on him.

The one Charlie had encountered built her a nightmare world as it fed on her fear.

Maybe Yantho was yet another kind of djinn. But that couldn't be right. Jonathan had said it was the Mayan God of love. But it created a world where someone who cared about Dean kept hurting him. It would had made more sense to create a fantasy love world.

Distractedly, he ran his hands through his hair, pushing the long strands away from his face only for them to fall right back where they were. He opened the book on Mayan gods again and flipped back to the page on Yantho.

'On the twentieth year, twenty offerings would be made to Yantho. The worthy would receive Yantho's mark and the women would be given many seasons of fertility.

This creature would pick its victims from among its worshipers and leave a flower at the scene, the Laelia orchid, believed to be the aforementioned mark. This flower was native to the region and especially grew in abundance near the creature's dwelling.

The worshipers would revel and celebrate around the victims, save those closest to said victims. Their family and loved ones, bereaved over the deaths of their cherished person, would mourn and ache and wither away to nothing.'

He flipped over to the other gods and the story was the same. There however, were no mentions of what actually happened to the victims during their moments in the monster's grasps so he had no way of knowing if they too saw a dream world. What was noted was that several of the other gods were killed by families of their victims. So either Yantho had been headed on the same route and something changed its fate or it was a different type of monster.

Making a frustrated noise, Sam went over to the chapter on Yantho again. It just didn't add up. It couldn't be a different type monster because it died from the same method as the other 'gods'. He thought on this a little longer. It could also be that it was a different monster who could be killed by a gold dagger similar to how several monsters were affected by silver or iron. It could even be that any sharp object could have worked or maybe it was stabbing a vital organ that did him in.

He swept a hand through his hair again as he thought on this, pulling slightly to feel a little pain. The pain helped his racing mind find focus.

He hadn't seen how the monster died so he didn't know where Manuel had stabbed it. The answer to this would help him answer many of the questions he had.

He also needed to know if Dean was the only one who'd had the dreams.

The possibility remained that Yantho was a subspecies of djinn except that djinn were killed with silver daggers dipped in lamb's blood. Could it then be a case of the silver dagger/lamb's blood being unnecessary? Maybe a djinn had been accidentally killed with a silver blade with lamb's blood on it and the tradition got passed on.

Unfortunately they had not encountered many djinns so he couldn't be sure if the species had many variants or if the three different types they had encountered were the only types out there. That would tell him whether or not Yantho and the similar Mayan gods were subsets of djinn or if they were just remarkably similar.

He sat back in the chair, eyes closed and let his head hang over the chair's back. This helped relieve the stiffness in his back and his butt from sitting in one spot for an extended period of time. Rubbing his hand over his neck, he could feel how tight the tendons were. He took a deep breath and focused on the myriad of warm colors playing through his closed lids.

He definitely needed to know more about djinn. He'd need to find all the books they had on the subject and on any other creature similar. He got up and started scanning files and books, pulling out anything that seemed like it might be relevant. By the time he was done, he had nine books piled on the desk.

He looked at them all and nodding, picked one up. It was a lot of books but they might not all be as useful as they appeared on first glance. He just didn't want to miss anything.

* * *

Three hours went by before he was able to pull himself away from the information in front of him. By that time, both tables in the library were perfectly lined with open books, organized and ordered notes and his laptop. Every page was in a precise, straight row, taped to the table's surface in a way that made it easy to understand how they related to the books and pages around. Of the nine books he'd initially picked, five had relevant information. He also had Jonathan Fisher's journal and the original Mayan book opened for reference.

It was as he initially thought. He needed to speak to Manuel about the kill method. He also needed to speak to Henry about the monster. From what Dean had said, he was guessing the kid didn't know much but that might not be the case.

Taking his seat, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number. After two rings, it connected. "Arias. Hold for a moment."

Sam frowned at the phone as he heard shuffling, muffled voices and then abrupt dampening as a door closed.

"You're a brave man calling me right now Agent Page. Or should I say Sam Winchester." The gruff voice said over the phone.

"You know who I am," Sam said with caution. Would the detective make things hard for him now that he knew who he was?

"I'm a detective. Pulled your prints off of your rental."

"Ah. So you probably saw some stuff-"

"Yea. You could say that. Like you've been dead for a while now."

"About that..." He paused. He'd given this speech so many times, that he didn't know where to start anymore.

"Way I figure. Things aren't always black and white. I know this for sure in my line of work and especially after meeting you and your brother. World's bigger than I used to think you know, so I looked at your rap sheet and did some digging. Let's just say some things are starting to make sense."

"You've been busy," Sam absently scratched his hands through his hair. They'd left El Paso only a little over two days ago.

"Yea, well I have nothing better to do. I got suspended."

Well shit, he's definitely not going to want to help now, Sam thought. "Look man..." he began.

"No no!" Manuel hurried to add. "The suspension is more like a slap on the wrist. I'm getting a commendation and promoted to Lieutenant. They found dozens of bodies buried around Three Woods. Some buried for decades. Dr Holland owned the land and they linked her to several of the victims. Of course they don't know that she exploded in a pile of dust so there's a national warrant out for her."

"Ahh..." Sam said. He'd guess that she had even more bodies stashed away at other sites that they would never find.

"Chief only suspended me because I went after a suspect without informing anyone. They don't know that I did have back up so I got all the credit for the find and they're calling me a hero." He said this in a tone that suggested that he didn't agree.

"Good. Take it. If you hadn't insisted on coming, things would have ended very differently. You saved my brother's life." There, Sam paused. "I'm actually calling about that. I needed to know how you killed Yantho."

"Yantho huh?" Manuel said thoughtfully. "That bitch threw me across the room and you were rushing the monster. I was on the ground for a short while. I think I black out for like a second but the gunshots woke me up and the next thing I saw, you were flying into the wall. You dropped the weapon and it fell near me." He recited excitedly. "I grabbed it and snuck up to the monster. It was busy doing something to your brother so I stuck the blade in its back and forced it as far up as I could. Then I severed its spinal cord and the monster and the doctor just... exploded."

Sam was busy writing all this down. "Would you say it was already dying while you were stabbing it or do you think destroying its spinal cord did the trick?"

"I was moving fast. I didn't want the doctor to notice me or kill you and I could see... Dean?" he waited for Sam to confirm before continuing. "Dean kind of fading so I don't think I even took five seconds but if I had to say, I'd say as soon as I sliced through the spine it exploded."

"Did it react at all to the first penetrative stab and dragging blade?"

"It was too busy with your brother to notice."

"Do you remember where along the back you started, how far up you reach, the approximate length of the cut and how deep?"

"You're very casual about this you know. It's making my inner detective senses tingle."

"It was a monster who killed hundreds of people," he said fiercely sitting up in the chair. "It deserved to die."

"I agree with you there but why the twenty questions?"

Sam relaxed in his chair again. "Anytime we encounter a new monster, we document everything we can about it so that if we or others meet another one like it we can deal with it."

"Wait just how many monsters are there? And there are more people like you?"

"I don't know the exact numbers but from what we've experienced there are a lot of them out there. New ones keep popping up. As for people like us, yes but not as many in recent years."

"And you guys are out there killing monsters under the radar?" He sounded incredulous.

"Not quite under the radar as you've seen but we try our best to save as many as we can. To do that we need all the information on any new baddies that show up."

Manuel clearly was a man who could roll with the punches. "Alright. So the monster was kind of stooped but I started about half way through the Lumbar Curve and ended about half way through the Thoracic Curve."

"Impressive knowledge," Sam said surprised.

"I did some EMT training with my sister," he said in a no big deal kind of way.

"So would you say you might have pierced its heart?"

"It's entirely possible but I honestly couldn't be sure. It happened so fast then he exploded." He sounded apologetic.

"That's fine," and it was. He had a lot of information to work with now. "Could you see what it was doing to Dean and Henry?" The monster had had its back to him so he couldn't quite see.

"There were these blue wisps? Smoke maybe? Something between them and the monster," He had an incredible tone, like he couldn't believe what he was even saying.

"The doctor also hit us with blue fireballs," he mused to himself. The method of feeding and attack bared several similarities with the djinn. More and more he was becoming convinced that they were the same if not related. "Alright Detective Arias-"

"Call me Manuel," he suggested.

"Manuel," Sam conceded. "You're helping a lot."

"Anything I can do man,"

"What about Henry? What did he have to say in all this?"

"The kid was a trooper. He lied through his teeth and implicated both Brady and the doctor. He told them how the two of them kidnapped him and Isabella and how they tortured her before killing her. His father is suing the hospital."

"Hmm. So he didn't mention any monsters." Sam was surprised. Many would have wanted to scream what they knew to any who would listen. Especially someone so young.

"We've been talking. He's a smart kid. I think he's thinking of changing his major and going into some capacity of law enforcement."

Sam could understand that need for control. This was a defining moment in his life so it would definitely influence him.

"Do you happen to have his number? I want to see if I can get his version of events."

After getting the number, they said their goodbyes with vague mentions of keeping in touch. Sam called Henry next and he was immediately transferred to his father who asked him to thank his partner.

His suspicions proved correct in that Henry too had visions but not for long. The monster seemed much more interested in Dean.

"I blacked out a few times but it was weird you know? She kept talking about the quality of his emotions. Apparently the monster fed on the feelings that others have for you. The more intense the emotions the stronger it got. She sure talked a lot about it.

When the calls were over Sam had a clearer picture of what was going on.

* * *

A few hours after he had spoken to Henry Mason, Sam heard movement in the hallways. Dean was back. He had not seen his brother since last night.

Sometimes, Dean would disappear for hours, doing who knows what. He didn't pry. If it was important for him to know, he was sure that Dean would tell him.

There was a flurry of activity in the kitchen. Dean was working on lunch for them both and soon after he could hear him entering the library.

"Hey Beautiful Mind. What's all this?" He referenced the meticulous arrangement of books and papers covering the surface of both tables.

The sudden pounding in his chest startled him because for a second there he thought Dean was calling him beautiful, before the rest of the sentence was out.

'Of course he's not calling you that. What's wrong with you?' this he aimed at his fluttering heart.

"Just answering some questions about the case."

He felt overly self conscious about his blunder even though it was all in his head and as a result he tried to exude an outwardly appearance of calm.

"Oh yeah?" Dean said, standing by the door. Sam could tell that he was interested from his body language. "What did you find?"

"So get this, Yantho was actually an earlier offshoot of djinn. I found all these documents about the origins of djinns and some accounts of the different variations that some Men of Letters had tracked down," Sam said gesturing to some of the pages.

Dean walked over to get a look at what he was pointing too. He rested one hand against Sam's chair and leaned over him so he could see better.

Sam paused for a brief second as the knuckles of Dean's fingers pressed warmly into his shoulders. The brief touch sent a tiny shock down his spine which he tensed up to suppress. So much for unconscious touches, he thought.

"I-it tracked its victims based on how strongly that person was cared for." He pulled away from the hand that was pressing into his skin as subtly as he could because for some reason, every sense in his body was suddenly focused there and it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. He was still hyper aware of Dean behind him though, his scent floating over him and Dean's body heat drawing him in like a magnet. "The person needed to be cared for so deeply that their death could cause their loved ones to wither away in despair."

"Like Luke and Mrs. Mason," Dean supplied, his voice a deep rumble grating against Sam's spine. Neither bothered to mention the fact that Dean too had been kidnapped and fed on.

Sam took a deep breath, ready to launch into another lecture and got a lungful of Dean's amazing scent again. Why does he smell so good? He thought distractedly. It was hard to concentrate when all his being was so tuned to Dean.

"Dude. Can you not hover over me? You stink," he said suddenly.

"I do not," Dean said offended, but he still sniffed at his armpits to make sure.

"Trust me. You do." Sam emphasized his disgust, pulling away from him with relief. "I can't breathe." Sam scrunched up his face in feigned distaste. In reality he was just happy that Dean wasn't so close anymore, stealing his concentration and his breath.

"Really? Shit man. Thanks for telling me. I was just coming to tell you that I'm going out to meet someone." He winked suggestively. "Might be back later – or not." All of a sudden Dean was preoccupied and not focusing on Sam at all. "Left something for you in the kitchen. I'm going to hit the showers. See you later little brother." He said this over his shoulder as he left the room in a rush, no doubt to scrub away the imagined smell.

Immediately Sam's good mood turned sour. He didn't know what that feeling clawing at his chest was but it made his heart ache and his throat close. Leaving everything where it was, he walked to his room and closed the door.

* * *

He didn't know how long he spent staring at the walls in his room, but his mind had cycled through the same series of thoughts several times. That seemed like an appropriate response to the mood he was in. No matter what, he couldn't stop wondering what Dean was doing and with whom. The more he thought about it, the more upset he felt so he tried to avoid it, not looking too closely at why this was bothering him so much.

He turned over on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Why couldn't he be more like Dean and just hook up with strangers. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd gotten relief from someone or something other than his own right hand.

He couldn't seem to separate emotion from the act so he couldn't just jump into bed with someone who didn't mean something to him. The only time he'd been able to do that was when he was soulless and he'd felt horrible after.

His phone vibrated on the bed next to him. Picking it up he read the brief message.

 **Dean**  
You didn't eat what I made you. [10:27pm]

 **You**  
Where are you? [10:28pm]

Ignoring the immediate lightening of his mood, he focused on the fact that Dean would have to be home to know that he hadn't eaten.

 **Dean**  
My room. [10:28pm]

Sam looked at his phone incredibly. He ignored the tiny burst of happiness that went through him because it made no sense. Clicking the call button, he waited for Dean to pick up.

"Why are you texting me when you're just down the hall?" He could barely keep the joy out of his voice.

"I didn't know where you were. This was faster." Dean said matter of factly.

"You're ridiculous. How'd your date go?" Damn it. He hadn't planned to ask but the question seemed to push itself out his lips.

"It wasn't a date." Dean sighed into the phone, Sam could pick up little sounds over the line like Dean had moved around on his bed.

"Hook up. Whatever," he dismissed. The smile on his face hurt, it was so wide.

"We talked but I wasn't into it. Kept thinking little brothers might be hiding in her bathroom listening."

He could tell that Dean was joking so he went along with his playfulness and said, "that was absolutely your fault," with indignation.

"Seriously though. I was just meeting her because a mutual friend set us up but the vibe was off. More importantly why didn't you eat what I made you? I slave over a hot stove you know."

"Sorry. I just wasn't hungry."

"You alright?" Dean was immediately serious.

"Yea. I'm fine," Sam sighed and he was fine now.

"You in your room tonight? Will you sleep okay?"

He wrinkled his nose a little. "I thought you'd be gone all night so I figured I'd just stay here."

"Well you thought wrong so if you want to you can come over." He could hear the warmth in Dean's voice even over the line and more than anything he wanted to be there.

"Alright," he said softly. "See you in a bit."

"Yea."

Clicking off the phone, he hurried to get out of his bed, almost tripping as the sheets tangled around his legs. Leaving them where they were, half on, half off the bed, he went to Dean's room.

* * *

A/N And that's it. Leave a comment to let me know what you think.

Yes this is a romance however it is a slow build and will take some time to get to the good stuff.


	13. Forever In My Mind

Chapter 13

Sam opened the door without knocking. Dean knew that he was coming so it didn't seem necessary. Dean was laying down under the covers, reading. As soon as he entered, Dean looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. It wasn't a particularly blinding or special smile, just a simple rucking up of his lips, but the effect on him felt transcending. He could feel his own lips lifting up in response.

"Hey," he said as casually as he could, closing the door behind him. He didn't enter any further. It felt like a true eternity since he'd last seen his brother and he needed the brief moment to get used to everything that made up Dean again. Instead, he leaned casually against the door.

"Hey," Dean answered gruffly, before frowning at him a little. "Why're you hovering by the door?"

"I'm not hovering," he scoffed exaggeratedly, before walking as casual as he could to what was becoming his side of the bed. He climbed in, feeling the heavy weight of Dean's eyes on him the entire time.

Pulling himself up to a sitting position, back against the headboard, Dean lay the book down across his lap, with his thumb as a bookmark. Coming to a decision, he closed it instead and placed it on the nightstand before turning slightly towards Sam.

"You would tell me if something was wrong, right?" He asked gently, he didn't want to push.

"What do you mean?" He didn't think that he'd been acting any differently than normal so he couldn't imagine what Dean could be referring to.

"I don't know. You just seem off lately."

"I had a lot of questions about the case and it was bugging me you know? We're here in this museum and I feel like it's my responsibility to continue the Men of Letters' work." His hushed tones setting a quiet mood around them. "I was a little distracted working on it but I figured it out, which you would know if you hadn't run out the door." This he accused lightheartedly.

Dean chuckled a little. After a little while, he relaxed a bit and laid back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sam copied him. "You got me there. I'm here now, so you can tell me what you figured out," he placated, folding his arms across his chest and getting a little more comfortable.

Sam told him everything he figured out in excited tones. He could tell that Dean was listening and he answered his questions as fully as he could.

"I knew you would figure it out," Dean praised when he was done.

Sam could feel the warm glow of satisfaction heat his skin. He enjoyed answering questions and solving riddles, but the sheer gratification and validation he got from a few words from his brother is what really kept him doing this.

"Thanks," he whispered tiredly, stifling a yawn around his smile. It was weird. He didn't feel any of the strangeness from this morning. All he felt was happy and content.

Reaching over to turn off the lights, Dean said. "Get some sleep," before settling under the covers with his back to Sam.

It was as if Dean's words cast a spell over him, Sam could feel his eyes starting to droop. Turning to mirror his brother. He lets himself get pulled under.

* * *

He stood under the hot downpour of the shower lost in thought. He could not get the buzzing under his skin to go away. It felt like he was on the verge of an epiphany – like there was something he should be noticing but it was just out of sight. This feeling had been around for a few days now, steadily increasing until he was so wired he felt ready to jump out of his skin.

Absently, he grabbed Dean's soap. He wasn't even pretending to look at his own bottle anymore. It was just way more satisfying using Dean's. Pouring a generous amount into his palm, he run his hands over his body. He got a thrill from knowing that he smelled a little like his brother all day.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The scent wasn't quite right. Not like it had been that morning when he woke up, again in Dean's arms. Dean had been holding him so close that with each of his deep inhales, Sam could feel the slow, torturous drag of his chest and stomach along the curve of his back. At one point he was so close that he'd nuzzled his nose and slightly stubbled chin and face against the back of Sam's neck; the slight abrasion sending a riot of goosebumps across his body. Dean's warm exhales ruffled his hair and raked over his nerves maddeningly, forcing tiny tremors and shivers.

He let his soapy hands wander leisurely over his taunt stomach, feeling the muscles quiver under his touch as he relived the memory. In the dark of the room, he'd tried testing to see if he could stealthily free himself from the iron grip his brother had on him, but it was like Dean did not want to let him, his arm tightening where it lay low on his waist and pulling him just slightly closer.

He shifted his head to the side, letting the warm water run over his closed eyes as both hands travelled up his soapy chest in an easy glide. He didn't know why being held down so securely made him quiver but as soon as he'd felt Dean's arm tightening, he'd had to fight off the shudder struggling to rock his body, and bite off the moan that wanted out. The sensation was so intense and sudden, not to mention confusing. He could have easily broken out of the hold but that was not the point. Besides to do that, he would have had to wake Dean and he very much enjoyed laying in that bed.

A ragged groan escaped his lips as his fingers brushed over a pebbled nipple on its way back down his chest. It echoed in the empty bathroom around him obscenely but he barely heard it. He was so focused on remembering as much detail as he could from that morning. He'd felt charged, on edge. Tiny bolts of electric feeling pulsing through his body, his muscles clenching on every pleasured wave. He was so conscious of Dean that the tiniest shift or motion felt loud and aggressive against his oversensitized skin.

Remembering the intensity of it all lit a fire in him and it kept growing, burning stronger and heating his blood. He felt amazing. Better than he could remember feeling in a long time. One hand travelled lower, wrapping around himself before giving an absent stroke.

His eyes flew open in surprise at the force of the arousal that shot through him, curling his toes and forcing a broken sob from his throat. He froze through the rush of several pounding heartbeats before looking around the bathroom, guiltily.

His hand was still clenching and releasing around his cock like it was reluctant to let go. He could feel how hard he was but he still kind of had to look down, to make sure. Almost helplessly, his hand started to move again and one knee buckled under him, it felt so good. Catching himself against the wall, he closed his eyes and licked the water off his lips, concentrating hard. Should he do this?

It had been a while since he'd taken matters into his own hands, so to speak. Now that he was there though, he really kinda wanted to keep going.

Yea, he thought as his hands clenched around his cock again, he definitely wanted to. But he would have to be quick. It would be humiliating if Dean caught him like this. His back arched on a shudder as he imagined it. Dean walking in on him, being exposed like that.

Fuck! Yea, he really wanted to do this. Grabbing the soap bottle he quickly smeared a tiny amount over his palm before gripping himself again. He was really getting off on the smell.

He closed his eyes, calling up a go to fantasy guaranteed to get him there. He wanted to make this as quick as he could.

Some nameless girl on her knees for him. She would look up at him through her eyelashes before trying to take him. Struggling, choking, she was so eager. It wasn't going to take him long he could tell. Focusing hard on the fantasy, he bit his lower lip as he imagined all the filthy things he could tell this fictional woman to do.

'Beg for it,' fantasy Sam demanded as he teased her, rubbing the head over her lips. 'You're so hungry for my cock.'

Unbidden, a memory superseded the image he was building. "How far can you take me." It didn't even seem strange when his hand unconsciously sped up as Dean's smoky voice floated in his memory. He was so far gone, so caught up in the moment, chasing the orgasm that was eluding him.

He didn't have a visual to go with the remembered words so he tried using his fantasy girl, but he couldn't get it quite right. He made a frustrated sound. The image wasn't strong enough.

He concentrated a little harder, hoping to build a more solid picture. "Good. Go slower and you'll take more."

Without warning, the tenuous mental image he was trying to build wobbled and in its place, he saw instead himself kneeling on the floor, choking as he greedily tried to take all of Dean. The fantasy lasted barely a few seconds before he was coming from the sheer shock of it. It was so visceral and raw. His big body quaking and shaking as guttural moans and breathless gasps rasped from his throat.

It took forever for the tremors raking his body to calm down and he could feel panic in the wings trying to take hold of him. Almost on autopilot, he rinsed off and in a daze, let his legs take him to his room.

* * *

He'd been sitting on the bed long enough for his body to dry off naturally. He felt stuck in a blank void trying to reach for denial but unable to.

'Well that just happened,' he thought defeatedly. He'd officially sunk to the lowest level.

He stared blankly at his hands, blaming them for the whole thing. If he'd just showered and gotten out, none of this would have happened.

He tried to rally his thoughts after a while. Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Sometimes the mind went to random places when fantasizing. It didn't have to mean anything. It was probably a heat of the moment thing anyway. That had to be the rational answer.

But he knew it wasn't because just cautiously remembering the brief image sent waves of interest spiking through him. Somehow, somewhere, his wires had gotten crossed.

He rucked up the towel as it slowly started to loosen around his waist.

He had never looked at Dean as anything other than a brother before. Sure, he admired him more than was probably healthy but to him Dean was big brother and nothing more. He'd never even considered the possibility of more because it just wasn't – like the idea didn't exist in reality.

But something must have changed.

Was it the room sharing? It was an intimate setting so that was a possibility but he'd shared rooms and beds with Dean practically all his life so it should not have been any issue. He couldn't, however, deny that maybe he wasn't really looking at the room sharing as platonically as he had in the past. If his reactions over the week was anything to go by. He'd been excited and thrilled at the idea of first sleeping in Dean's room, then his bed.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he steepled his hands and laid his chin on them staring at nothing in particular. How had it come to this?

Now that he was acknowledging his actions, so many things were becoming obvious. He couldn't understand how he'd missed the signs. He was supposed to be smart. Over the last week, he'd been doing and feeling some pretty questionable things. Like his reaction to being in Dean's room.

He'd also developed a habit of obsessing over his brother's scent. Dean hadn't even changed anything. It was the same scent it had always been. He knew this subconsciously but it had began to mean something different – something more significant.

A lot of the things he'd been doing started to make sense and he could see that it had been building unknowingly since they came home from the last case. He had clearly been fixating on Dean. Shivering in his bed like a virgin, getting jealous and depressed at the mention of a possible hookup, sniffing his dirty sheets.

How could he have been so blind?

He was attracted to his brother.

"Well shit," he said without humour.

* * *

His stomach was cramping from hunger but he hadn't left the room yet. It was almost past noon but he didn't think he had the courage to face Dean with the newness of this life altering fact hanging over him. He was sure that Dean would take one look at him and know. That it would be written on his face in big bold letters. "I want you to fuck me."

He just had to wait a while and Dean would go out like he always did. He started pacing the floor trying to come up with a solution in the mean time. For all he knew, this was temporary and would go away. Maybe observing his brother in that compromising situation and being forced to bear witness confused him and his brain was just trying to make sense of it all.

It could have happened because he hadn't really had an orgasm in a long time and in a moment of insanity from lack of blood to his brain, a crazy image popped up. Maybe if he thought about it again it wouldn't even do anything.

He stopped and sat on the bed. Are you really going to try and willingly fantasize about your brother? He didn't want to for fear that he might actually prove himself wrong and enjoy it but he needed to know. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, hoping nothing would happen.

Cautiously he built up an image in his mind of a similar scene. He bit his lips thoughtfully, his brows creased with his concentration.

Dean was sitting on the bed in his room, strong hands on his thighs. Sam sat on his hunches on the floor, between his legs looking at Dean's every move. Dean gave him the smile that was only reserved for him before fisting a hand in his long hair and pulling him up slightly to lock their lips in a heated kiss.

He let Sam go and not breaking eye contact, unzipped his jeans. He pulled out his cock, and gave himself a few lazy strokes. "Look at how eager you are to suck your brother's cock."

"Fuck," Sam moaned, stretching the word out. He opened his eyes slowly. That definitely did it for him. He stared at the growing bulge pushing at the abrasive towel. He definitely couldn't call this a fluke or an accident.

Letting his body drop back on the bed, he threw one hand over his eyes and untucked the towel with the other. He could feel guilt trying to over take him but he shut it out and instead palmed the heavy weight in his hand. He let the fantasy continue to play out.

* * *

He managed to avoid seeing Dean all day. No small feat as they were the only two people in the building. Now he was about to enter his brother's room with this massive thing hovering over him. Even knowing what he did, he wasn't willing to give up sleeping in Dean's bed.

Although the room was dark, he could tell that Dean was not asleep yet. Maybe they could pretend everything was fine and Sam could just sleep. It was unlikely to happen but he could hope.

He closed the door as quietly as he could and skulked over to the bed, climbing in. As he was starting to relax, Dean spoke. "Didn't see you all day." His deep rumble sent tingles across Sam's scalp. He couldn't do this. Clenching his eyes tight, he didn't say anything. Maybe Dean would think that he had already fallen asleep.

Dean didn't seem to buy his act because he said, "what's going on with you lately?" His voice was laced with slight concern like he wasn't sure yet it he needed to be worried but was getting there.

"What do you mean?" Did he know? Sam wondered fearfully.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. I've been getting this vibe from you for the last few days."

"It's nothing. I've just been working through some things. Can't seem to shut my mind down while I try to figure it out. You know?" He hoped that would be enough to get Dean to let it go.

"Can you tell me what it is? Maybe I can help. We did say we'd be more open with each other." Sam wished this was something he could share but it felt too big – like it had the potential to destroy their relationship kind of big.

"I'm not... keeping it a secret per say," he thought about it a little. "I'm not even sure what it is. I feel like it's something my mind's trying to wrap itself around. So I wouldn't even know how to explain," he shrugged.

"Alright. If you need to, you know where to find me." He didn't sound pleased but he wasn't going to push.

"Alright," and the discussion ended but Sam felt dissatisfied. H felt like he was disappointing Dean somehow. But what could he do? He couldn't tell him about this. He knew he was being a hypocrite. He'd been the one demanding that they be more open with each other yet he was lying to Dean. But what could he do?

It was hard to get to sleep. He could tell when Dean dropped off, his breathing evening out, but he just couldn't seem to relax. He was afraid of what might happen. Would he react to Dean? What if he groped him in his sleep or worse said something?

Worried thoughts raced through his mind until he too gave in and fell asleep.

* * *

He woke up when he felt Dean's arm loosened around him. Not again, he thought in frustration with his body. He could feel himself thickening just from knowing that Dean was holding him. If felt like Dean was just starting to wake up, his body moving lazily in the early throes of consciousness. Sam quickly pretended to be asleep, shutting his eyes and laying as still as he could. He heard Dean groan as he raised his head from the pillow, before yawning. His arm was still around Sam, forgotten or not noticed.

He'd expected Dean to quickly pull away but he was doing the exact opposite and taking his time. He had to know that he was still holding onto Sam.

Dean turned over and squeezed him briefly before finally letting go and ruffling his hair affectionately. Sam almost let out a whimper as he felt Dean's arms tighten around him for that moment. Luckily he was able to catch the sound before it could escape.

Sam felt the bed dip a little as Dean sat on the edge, gathering his bearings before getting up and leaving the room.

He was so confused. Shouldn't Dean have been doing everything in his power to get away from the situation? Why did it seem like he wouldn't have minded staying exactly where he was? Was he the only one making a big deal out of it?

Worst yet, now that he was acknowledging his attraction, he couldn't deny that what he was feeling was arousal. He was on fire with it. He looked down at the evidence. It surprised him every time he saw it. For a second he entertained the idea of taking care of it right there, in Dean's bed, surrounded by his scent but he knew that Dean would kill him if he ever found out, so getting up he snuck out of the room to find privacy.

* * *

His goal for the day was basically the same as yesterday. Avoid Dean as much as possible while he tried to get over this thing but Dean wasn't having it. He must have noticed Sam's absent more than he realized.

"Come on Sam. If you can't get your mind to chill then lets beat it into submission. Come on. Let's spar." He seemed to be in a good mood, joking and grinning as he forced his way into Sam's room. He'd thought he was safe hiding in the room but Dean had taken him by surprise.

All Sam could think of was that sparring involved a lot of physical contact and close touches and with the way his traitorous body was acting right now he didn't trust himself in that situation.

"It's not a good idea. I didn't get much sleep last night," he tried to hedge, coming up with any excuse he could.

"The monsters won't care about your sleep cycle. Come on." He goaded. Sam knew that tone. Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer. He could feel irritation bubbling under his skin. He really wasn't up to this. He just wanted to be alone for a little while to figure this out.

"Dean..." he began before Dean grabbed his biceps. In shocked reaction, he pulled away almost aggressively. He'd only been trying to get away from the touch and reacted instinctively but he could see the hurt on Dean's face.

"I'll leave you alone," Dean said subdued, before closing the door on a frozen Sam.

"Fuck!" he said after a while. He felt trapped and lonely all of a sudden. Why did he always have to mess things up. He crawled into his bed, feeling sorry for himself.

* * *

He'd been in his room for so long that it was starting to feel like a prison. It was more morning than night at this point and he had yet to sleep. Every time he tried, he ended up replaying that look on Dean's face again and it would cause this pain in his chest that robbed him of rest.

Eventually, he'd had enough. He just wanted to be near Dean. Why did he have to deny himself? This thing would work itself out eventually regardless of whether or not he was around his brother. It was just too exhausting trying to stay away and after two days of this, he was done.

He made his way to his brother's room and crawled into his bed. Dean had left his space for him instead of taking the entire bed. For some reason this gave him hope and within moments he was falling asleep. He would apologize in the morning.

* * *

He woke up alone in the bed. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed at not waking up to Dean spooning him but maybe this was for the best. He sighed. They needed to talk before things became too toxic between them but he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell Dean the truth but he needed to tell him something.

He groaned in frustration, rolling on his back and shoving his fingers into his hair as far as it would go. He didn't know what he would say but he knew that he had to find Dean to at least apologize. Sitting up in the bed, he swung his legs over the edge only to freeze. Dean was siting on the couch looking at him.

"I spent all day yesterday trying to figure it out." He said gravely. "I kept telling myself that it wasn't possible. That I'd know but honestly I'm starting to not be so sure."

Sam was confused. What was he talking about? He asked as much.

"I'm starting to think you're not really my brother. Maybe I'm still stuck in that monster's dream." He sounded so sure that a chill of horror slithered over Sam.

"Dean-" he began, only to be cut off.

"This is exactly how the cycles worked. Fake Sam would rescue me. He'd seem like my brother for a little bit but slowly he'd start to grow distant then violent before trying to kill me." Dean looked like a husk of the man that Sam admired so much. He must have been thinking about this for a while, convincing himself that he was still stuck because Sam was shutting him out for no apparent reason.

He'd messed up so bad. He forgot that Dean's world revolved around him just as much as his revolved around his brother. Of course Dean would notice that he was avoiding him and yesterday he'd even pulled away from him. His hands were trembling as he struggled to find the right words.

"Dean," he pleaded. "You're out. I promise. I got you out. This is really me. Remember, you said he couldn't get me quite right so you'd know." He was getting off the bed slowly, cautiously, moving closer to his brother.

"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wanted to be out so desperately I was willing to believe anything." His eyes were so cold and distant, tracking Sam's movement as he said this.

Slowly, he sat next to Dean. A million nightmare scenarios played in his mind. What if Dean had tried killing himself to wake up while he was hiding in his room? "You aren't wrong. It's really me. Come on. You know me better than anyone. You would definitely know." He bumped their shoulders hoping Dean could feel his realness from the brief touch.

"Then why have you been acting so strange?"

* * *

AN: Please leave a comment or fav.


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